


Falling Into Paradise

by AmazonX, Ursula



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Angst, Case Fic, Drama, Fiction, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance, X-file
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-02-06
Updated: 2006-02-06
Packaged: 2018-11-20 09:09:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 62,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11332710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmazonX/pseuds/AmazonX, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ursula/pseuds/Ursula
Summary: By Ursula, Amazon X, Lady Midath, Morticia, Peach, Laura. An alternate take on Krycek's life. What if he and AD Skinner met when he was at the academy.





	Falling Into Paradise

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).
> 
>  **Author's notes:** AD Skinner teaches at Quantico, meeting a young Agent Krycek. Both lives change.

  
Author's notes: AD Skinner teaches at Quantico, meeting a young Agent Krycek. Both lives change.  


* * *

Falling Into Paradise

## Falling Into Paradise

### by Ursula, Amazon X, Lady Midath, Morticia, Peach, Laura

##### [Story Headers]

  


Title: Falling Into Paradise 

Author: Ursula, Laura, Morticia, Lady Midath, Peach & Amazon X 

E-mail: , , , , , 

Feedback: Why, yes, thank you! 

Rating: NC-17 

Summary: Walter Skinner, 42-year-old virgin. Alex Krycek, gay man on the make. You can see where this is going. 

Archive: The Basement, Full House Slash, WWOMB. Anyone else, just ask! 

Disclaimer: Not mine, never were, I have no money. 

Notes: Not only is this AU, but we're pretty much playing fast and loose with the canon timeline. Mama Beast, who is one of the world's great beta readers tackled this story for us. 

* * *

"AD Skinner, you seem to regard this assignment as a disciplinary measure," the Deputy Director said. He looked up over his glasses at Walter. 

"The FBI Academy is the wellspring of our agency," the Deputy Director continued. "Each one of us has a responsibility to help set the tone for an agent's career. You should appreciate the chance to mold all those young minds." 

Right at that moment, Walter would have appreciated the chance to walk out of that office, out of the Hoover, and back into the field. He had been a great field agent. He loved being a field agent. It had been Mother who kept nagging him to go after promotions. Why had he listened? It was bad enough that . . . best not to go there. 

Pasting a bland expression on his face, Walter said, "Thank you, Sir. I will keep that in mind, Sir." 

"You had better," the Deputy said. "By the way, your Agent Mulder comes in early to scan the morning alerts. He had better not be looking for more of those ridiculous cases of his." 

"Taking initiative is the mark of a good agent," Walter said stiffly. 

"Being able to take orders is also the mark of a good FBI agent," the Deputy said. "Good luck at the academy. I am sure that time spent with Agents who really care about our procedures will be a refreshing experience for you." 

Glumly, Walter nodded and took his leave. He sympathized with Mulder. Everywhere you go, your hands were tied. Was this what he became an FBI agent for? 

Since Mother had died, Walter had been looking back at his life and it wasn't a pretty picture. 

Who the hell was he? What did he have to show for his life? It seemed as if other than a brief time in Vietnam that he lived his entire life trying to get Mother's approval. He had never felt sure of it and now, now he was looking at the high side of forty and he hadn't even lived. 

Perhaps it was too late now, Walter reflected as he walked toward the library to review the collected works on `Chain of Evidence'. He was too set in his ways to throw his career away now. Walter knew how to take orders. Maybe he would find some sort of renewed purpose in teaching all those eager young faces... 

* * *

Quantico, Quantico, Alex let the rhythm carry him across campus. He could feel the strut in his step and didn't give a damn. He knew he could do it. 

Murphy caught up with him as he turned toward the cafeteria. "Hey, baby brother, you going to grab some lunch?" 

Turning toward Murphy, Alex walked backwards a few steps to grin at her. "Hey, big sister, I sure am. You going to buy it for me?" 

"Yeah, right," Murphy said. She was the oldest in the present class. Alex was the youngest. 

Murphy came in under veteran's preference. She was thirty seven and had had been a police officer since she was twenty-one. 

Alex was squeaky new, fresh from his Masters in Computer Science. He had parlayed excellent grades in college and a childhood spent being babysat by Russian-speaking immigrant grandparents into his admission to Quantico. Speaking Russian was an asset to Alex in his application. He had also taken Chinese in college and was working on Japanese in his spare time...not that there had been a lot of that lately. 

They stood out from the rest of the class, who all seemed to have spilled from one mold, crew cut, bland, fifteen percent of them belonging to the Mormon religion, and all of them straight, straight, straight. And narrow. 

Not that Alex wanted to find fun and games here. He had no doubt that he could keep his sexuality under wraps. Murphy helped in that respect. People had already started teasing them about being a May-December couple. 

If Murphy was a guy, Alex would have liked her. As it was, she was tall, square jawed, and had done nineteen pull ups, midway into the male requirements range. Murphy had also completed the three mile run way ahead of everyone except Abraham, the Black agent from Nebraska, who was six feet, six inches tall, and built like a greyhound. 

Thinking about that, Alex said, "Murph, you going to run with me tomorrow? I need the coaching." 

To be honest, Alex swung his hips too far out when he ran. It was his worst fault. He had taken care of the problem as a kid by beating up anyone who said that he ran like a girl, but that was not an option now. 

"Sure, Alex," Murphy said. "We have that class on 'Chain of Evidence' right after lunch. We better not eat anything too heavy." 

"Yeah," Alex said, scowling. "I wouldn't want to fall asleep." 

"You won't," Murphy said. "I saw who was teaching it. He came into Scully's lab when I was finishing my notes. Oh, my!" 

"Is this a secret?" Alex asked. 

"AD Skinner," Murphy said. "I met him before. In fact, he was the reason I joined the FBI. The guy is the best investigator I ever met. Don't worry about being bored, Alex. Worry about whether you can keep up." 

"Hmm," Alex said. "If you say so. What does he look like?" 

"Very tall, built, I mean, I'm talking abs of steel and ass you could bounce a dime off," Murphy said. "Hell, you could bounce a quarter off that ass." 

"How about a Kennedy half dollar?" 

That was interesting. Murph and Alex had not exactly talked about his sexuality, but he sensed that she guessed and didn't mind a bit. 

"Bald," Murphy said. 

"Huh?" Alex said. He had actually started to think about Scully's class. She was planning on showing the group an actual autopsy, which was not good news to Alex. He wasn't squeamish, but the last time he had seen a corpse, it had been his grandmother. She hadn't even looked as if she was dead, dressed in her old fashioned black dress, lying there in the dark wood coffin. 

"Skinner was going bald the last time I saw him," Murphy said. "In fact, he shaved off his remaining hair, but I guess he grew it back. It's a good look on him anyway." 

"Murph?" Alex said. 

"What, Alex?" Murphy replied, blinking green eyes at him. 

"You have a crush on the guy," Alex asked. 

"Just a little one," Murph said. "I'm not interested in flirting with anyone who could screw up my career." 

"Me neither," agreed Alex. "There isn't a piece of ass on earth worth risking this. I'm in Quantico. This is what I planned for my entire life." 

"And such a long life too," Murphy teased. 

"I've done a lot of living in twenty three years," Alex said. Had a lot of ass in that time too, Alex mentally added. Too bad there wasn't a Quantico class on getting laid. Now, Alex was THE expert in that. He bet he could have had anyone of those nice straight boys if he set his mind to it, but he would sooner fuck a Ken doll. 

Murph nudged Alex again and said, "Hey, there he is again. That creepy guy. He's looking at you." 

What the hell was it with the man? He had been lurking around Quantico since Alex had arrived. He walked in and out of classes, watching, observing, and no one said anything. He wasn't introduced, but some of the instructors seemed nervous when he was around. Alex had him pegged for a quality control sort of function except that he had a gut feeling that there was more to it. It was strange that he was smoking where there were signs clearly stating it wasn't allowed. The man didn't seem to care. 

Sometimes, Alex thought that the guy was just on the make for him, hanging around the gym when Alex was doing pushups or staring up Alex's shorts when he wiggled up the rope. 

The guy better give it up. Alex didn't mind older men. He LIKED older men, but he didn't find this man remotely attractive. 

The guy was a wash-out. Pale blue eyes, thin lips, wrinkles patterning the yellowish smoker's skin. Grey hair in a neat but nondescript cut. Suit always rumpled as if he slept in them. He gave Alex the creeps! 

"Come on," Murph said. "Don't look at him!" she whispered. 

Okay, okay, Alex followed his friend into the cafeteria. He liked to eat even if the food was nothing to write home about. 

"Most of the guys will be trying to get to class early," Murphy said. "Trying to score points because Skinner is a real assistant director." 

"So we will get his attention by walking in, precisely on time," Alex said. "Shows confidence." 

"You're such a brat," Murphy said, but she said it with affection. 

"I know what I want," Alex said, "and I'm going to get it. Once I set my mind on a goal, there's nothing I won't do to achieve it." 

"Sometimes you scare me," Murphy said. "Come on. Lunch." 

"Lunch," agreed Alex. He was hungry. 

* * *

Peering over his glasses, Walter perused the class. Damn, he was going to have trouble telling them apart. One little, two little, three little FBI agents in the making. There was a tall African American one. That would be easy. That was Abraham. The other nine men were all stamped from the same mold. There were two women in the group, well groomed, professional, and fit. They were just a feminine version of the men in the class. 

It reminded Walter of why he put up with Mulder. At least, Mulder was an original. Walter felt that he was also an original. Although he knew how to play the advancement game, there was a lot people didn't know about him. Grimacing, Walter thought, `Some of it I hope no one finds out.' 

Most of the class had plunked down in their seats early, despite the fact that lunch wasn't really over. In fact, there were only two agents missing and this must be... 

Laugher rolled in from the hall. It was an incongruous chuckle, free, happy, and young. The last two members of the class sat down in adjacent seats. One of them was a woman, Janice Murphy. Walter remembered her from his last field chief appointment. He had been impressed with her skills and had encouraged her to apply to the FBI. It had taken her a while, but here she was. Walter was pleased. 

Her friend... 

Her friend made Walter very uncomfortable. He was so alive, green eyes sparkling in a face so pretty that it made the sleek women in the group look dull and ordinary. His hair was a little long. It was within regulations, but just barely. No wonder, it was soft, brown, wavy, shiny, unruly... 

Walter couldn't figure out why he was thinking about the young agent's hair. He picked up his notes and said, "As I am sure you have all heard. I am Assistant Director Walter Skinner. You will be with me for this two week seminar on chain of evidence. By the time, you leave this class, I expect that I could come into your dorm, wake you after a thirty six hour shift, and that you would be able to recite and perform every task necessary to collect, catalog, and maintain the sanctity of any piece of evidence. I will expect you to demonstrate to me how to secure a crime scene, show me that you understand the role of every member of a forensic investigation team, and that you will be able to support and document each step in front of a hostile judge and jury. Is that clear?" 

Every voice in the room assented. The young man who had entered the room with Murphy was looking at Walter with such a rapt expression that Walter decided that he must be a sterling teacher. It was the first time he'd stood in front of a lecture room and was thankful that he had a podium to hold onto. 

His confidence boosted by the spotlight of those green eyes, Walter said, "If you will open your manual, we will start with the basic concepts of Chain of Custody for Evidence." 

"So, ladies and gentlemen, why do we have chain of custody?" Walter asked. 

Hands shot up eagerly around the room. It was no co-incidence that Walter picked the man who seemed so thrilled with his class. 

"Evidence can be used in court to convict people of crimes," the agent said. "To prevent allegations of later tampering or misconduct, such as in the case of Smith, Foster, and Harden versus the State of Oklahoma, it must be handled in a scrupulously careful manner. From the moment that such evidence is located, it must be secured to prevent any alterations or possible loss. An officer must take charge of each piece of evidence and hand it over to the evidence clerk. Any change in custody, even for the briefest examination, must be documented." 

It was a good answer, almost a text book answer except for the case the agent had cited. That showed he had researched the issue in advance. Walter said, "That was a good answer, Agent..." 

"Krycek, Agent Krycek," the young man answered, offering an eager smile. 

"What Agent Krycek may have missed," Walter continued, "is the risk in the field of missing evidence in the first place. The first prerequisite of a good field investigator is an open, although analytical mind..." 

Walter noticed the scowl on one or two faces, but he hadn't lost Krycek. Krycek was leaning forward in his chair as if longing to come closer. 

It was amazing. What Walter was sure had been intended as a punishment detail seemed to have the potential for building up Walter's wounded ego. The divorce papers delivered last week, the closure of Mulder's X Files against Walter's wishes, and the condescending platitudes of the Deputy Director had all damaged what remained of Walter's pride. 

Yet he had walked into this classroom, started his lecture, and even the youngest agent in the classroom was enraptured with his words. Walter Skinner felt very, very good for the first time in months. 

* * *

It was still relatively dark outside when Walter arrived at the office; well the temporary office the Academy had graciously provided him for the next two weeks. He checked the time once more, mentally calculating if he had enough time for a morning run before the campus came alive. Classes didn't begin until 8 am, so he had a little over an hour for a leisurely run and a hot shower. Walter put his briefcase on his desk and grabbed his gym bag. It may have been a long time since he lived at Quantico, but he remembered enough to find his way to the gym and outside track. 

The air was heavy with morning dew casting the track in a light fog. The sun was up enough to see by so Walter didn't worry about tripping over any equipment left over from yesterday's physical training classes. He did a few preliminary stretches, preferring to jog slowly for his warm up before he would go through his stretch routine. 

* * *

Alex walked onto the outside track to meet up with Murphy for their appointed run. Murphy had already started going through her stretching exercises and she peered up at him through the v between her long legs. 

"About time you got up, I thought I was going to have to start without you," she said teasingly. The fact was she wouldn't be out here if it weren't for Alex. She had already been reprimanded twice for losing too much weight. Between the rigorous physical training and her personal drive to be the very best at everything, no amount of 'all you can eat' was enough to stop her from shedding pounds. As it was, she had discovered she truly liked the younger man and would go the extra mile to help him. 

His innate cockiness reminded her of her youngest brother who had died in a drunk driving accident the night of his graduation. Murphy had taken immediate liking to Alex and took him under her wing. He was easy to talk to, and if her suspicions were correct, his sexual orientation would keep him from making any unwanted sexual advances. She listened while he mumbled complaints about the early hour, although they both knew they had chosen this time so they would have the track to themselves. And this was for his benefit, not hers. 

Murphy had thought hard about how to help Alex with his running. He had no problem with speed, but the way his hips swung would eventually lead to discomfort during the three mile run. She had decided to concentrate on Alex's body awareness and by running drills that would keep his stride significantly shorter. It would allow him to concentrate on his limb and trunk mechanics. This would also help her determine why Alex swung his hips. Murphy had never had a problem in her technique; running was a natural as walking. Of course it seemed that Alex's natural walk was more of a strut, which could be carrying over into his running. That was where body awareness would help. Alex needed to learn how to carry his body and concentrate on the proper shift of his torso in coordination with the shift of his legs. 

After Alex had done a few more stretches Murphy stood behind him and placed one hand on his lower back. "As you are running, keep your back straight and lean forward from your waist. The swing of your arms should match the opposite leg. Move your legs forward from the hip socket rather than moving the hip..." 

"Good Morning, Agent Murphy. Agent Krycek." Walter's voice broke through the calm of the morning. He had spotted the two agents as he finished his third lap. He recognized them from the class the day before. They seemed to be preparing to do some laps also, but when Murphy had put her hands on Krycek's hips, Walter had felt a pain in his gut. They both had a slightly embarrassed expression as they quickly stood away from each other. 

"Sir," they replied simultaneously. "We were just," Alex started to explain, when Murphy blurted out, "I was showing Agent Krycek the proper carriage during running." 

Walter wasn't sure about Murphy's explanation. During his marriage, Sharon had never touched him as intimately as Murphy was touching Krycek. It was none of his business, but made him feel slightly uncomfortable. 

"Do you mind if I join you for my last laps before I hit the shower?" Walter asked, hoping to cover his embarrassment at intruding on them. 

"Not at all sir." Alex didn't like the unsolicited image of AD Skinner in the shower that had popped into his head. He was here to learn. To do the best and be the best. The last thing he needed was to obsess about one of his instructors. No matter how incredibly hot they were. 

* * *

"AD Skinner, I would like to thank you again for taking the time to teach our 'Chain of Evidence' course this term," Jim Brown said as he offered his hand to Walter. Brown had been an instructor at the Academy when Walter was a cadet. Now he was Dean. 

"It's a real pleasure, sir." Walter took the offered hand briefly and then indicated Brown to have a seat. "I'm finding a lot of satisfaction teaching the cadets. They all seem so eager to learn." 

"Indeed. Quantico is quite different from regular schools, as you well remember. Cadets approved to enter the program have proven their dedication. It wouldn't be prudent for them to 'slack off' to use my son's favorite phrase." Walter nodded his agreement and glanced down at his paperwork. Brown chuckled and relaxed back in the chair. He studied Walter for a minute, weighing his proposal carefully before asking. 

"I was wondering if we could call on your expertise in another class?" 

"Another class? 

"If you remember, physical training represents a significant component of our curriculum." Walter nodded for Brown to continue; he didn't know why the Dean just didn't get to the point. "Our Defensive Tactics and Physical Training Unit instructor has had a bit of an accident and will be out of commission for the next eight weeks. We have a replacement on his way, but it will be at least two weeks before he can free up his schedule. It is important that the agent trainees continue to work, raise and maintain their health and fitness levels. I pulled your file, I see you were a boxing champion during your service as a Marine." 

"Yes, sir. But that was a long time ago," Walter interjected. 

"Do you still box?" 

"Yes, sir, on occasion. I'm not sure I would qualify to instruct. I would be happy to stand in as a sparring partner." 

Brown dismissed Walter words with a wave, "I also see you have received several commendations for apprehending without the discharge of your firearm. That's quite an accomplishment and exactly what we need here at Quantico. The DT test focuses on grappling and boxing as well as handcuffing, control holds, searching subjects, weapon retention. But disarming techniques are equally as important. While we may teach the agents weapons tactics, our hope is for more to end up with your service record of diffusing situations without the discharge of their weapons." 

Walter tried to interrupt. He didn't feel qualified. Sure he was in top physical shape, unlike many of the desk riders that let their body go when they were no longer a field agent. But staying in shape and instructing were two separate deals. Brown continued to ignore Walter's sounds of protest, "Your first class is at 10 am. Oh and Walter, we still require the cadets to play at least one competitive sport. I remember you played college football...if you don't mind taking over coaching from me, that would give me more time to observe my full time instructors. I like to keep a close eye on them. As for the boxing, I expect they would appreciate going through some basic instruction and sparring. The class will be in the gym at 6 this evening waiting for you." 

Brown hadn't changed a bit from when he was an instructor; he still pretended to make a suggestion while really telling you what he expected you to do. Walter could have forced the issue, but in reality he didn't mind. He missed playing the occasional football game with his friends. That had came to an abrupt end when he married Sharon and with his duties as Assistant Director, there never seem to be the time. 

* * *

Walter walked into the gymnasium. Each room, hall and building brought back the fond memories of when he had attended the training course. It was one of the few times he had openly defied Mother. She hadn't wanted him to go into law enforcement. She had hoped he would make a career out of the Marines. Mother had only stopped nagging him when he had presented her with brochures describing the opportunities the FBI afforded him. She had jumped on the bandwagon then, hoping to steer him toward the political side of law enforcement. 

He approached the eager young faces, all sitting straight and proper on the side of the training mats. He gave them a moment to acclimate themselves to his presence. He was starting to recognize faces and put the proper names with them although this was still just his second day. Walter cleared his throat and began his prepared opening statement. He just hoped he wouldn't bore them to death by repeating what they had already heard. 

"Many of the skills we will learn will help you build confidence in your ability to perform effectively while physically tired, stressed, frightened, or apprehensive. We will also focus on defensive tactics that will enable you to handle arrests confidently, professionally, and safely." 

"I thought today we would take to the mats and go through some basic boxing moves. Boxing is a sport of speed, stamina and skill. You can wear your opponent down by staying alert. Learn to watch for certain body movements. Anticipate their next move. The stance a fighter takes right before a blow is telling. Even fakes can be avoided by watching for subtle changes in you opponents body position. If you can learn to watch for these subtle movements, you will be able to translate and use that to know when someone is about to bolt or pull a hidden weapon." 

Walter paired the cadets off and directed them to gear up and begin. The routines he had them running did not yet require the ring, but would help him access their skill level and fighting techniques. He walked slowly around each of the pairs, making suggestions when he observed a mistake or a poorly executed move. He stopped and watched Agent Krycek sparring against Abraham. To most it was a mismatched pairing, but Walter wanted a chance to see how the tall black man performed outside of running and the obstacle course. Walter had read the man's stats. Abraham was like a thoroughbred racehorse, but had yet to show any skill in hand to hand. He would be able to catch a perp, but as of yet, Walter wasn't sure Abraham could subdue them once caught, unless it was from sheer intimidation of his size. 

Krycek was another matter. The young cadet was solidly built and after witnessing his lack of finesse running, Walter knew his strength must lie in fighting rather than speed. The two men squared off, circling each other and waiting for the other to make to first move. Krycek moved first, attacking Abraham with a jab to his midsection and following through with a blow to Abraham's head. The large black man staggered but didn't fall. In another swift movement, Krycek lunged, forcing Abraham to the mat. Walter stepped in to stop the pair before Krycek could start 'subduing' Abraham. These two would require a lot of work. Abraham had obviously never been in a fight and Krycek was a street fighter who knew how to use an opponent's size against them. 

* * *

Although Krycek immediately halted his assault at Walter's barked command and rose to his feet with a smug expression on his face, his green eyes were sparking with suppressed fury and his whole body was trembling like an attack dog that had been unexpectedly leashed. His aggression in the thick of the fight was still rolling off his body. 

Walter was slightly disturbed by the way his own body reacted to Krycek's muted, yet inarguably animalistic, display. Unconsciously he shifted his weight onto his toes, as he automatically responded to the faint aura of danger by adopting his own slightly threatening stance. He was uncomfortably aware of a sudden pressure in his groin, but angrily dismissed it as no more than a side-effect of the adrenaline throbbing through his bloodstream. 

He also felt oddly reluctant to take advantage of the opportunity Krycek had awarded him. The young man was obviously expecting to be praised for his swift, decisive defeat of his opponent and, instead, Walter had no choice except to make a public example of him. These cadets were learning to be FBI Agents, not members of an undisciplined street gang. 

He deliberately called the rest of the class to halt their own sparring and directed their attention to the scene about to unfold around Krycek and Abraham. 

Under Walter's watchful eyes, Krycek offered his hand to help Abraham back to his feet. Equally aware of Walter's presence, Abraham accepted Krycek's aid with apparent good grace. But it was obvious, despite his carefully bland expression, that Abraham was feeling embarrassed and resentful that he'd been so easily defeated by a smaller opponent. 

Walter addressed Abraham first, keeping his voice neutral. "Check your stance. Your hips should be level, even though your feet need to be staggered. Always keep your hips directly under your shoulders and directly over a midpoint between your feet. No matter how hard your opponent hits you, you're heavy enough not to lose your balance if you're standing correctly." 

"Yes, Sir," Abraham muttered. 

"We need to work on your defensive techniques. You have to block punches, rather than just standing there looking surprised that someone's trying to hit you," Walter added bluntly. "You're a big powerful man, but that's working to your disadvantage now. You're so used to intimidating people with your size that you expect them to avoid physical contact with you. Out in the field, you won't be dealing with people who can just choose to walk away from a fight. An average perp has far too much to lose. Given the choice between fighting you or being arrested, most of them _will_ attack. Your size is far less of a deterrent to them than a possible jail sentence." 

"Yes, Sir," Abraham replied, staring miserably at the ground. "I'm sorry, Sir." 

"Don't be sorry. So you fell flat on your ass. So what?" Walter said. "It happens. Set performance goals, not outcome goals. You should only feel like a loser if you didn't give it your all. You can only expect to do your best. Sometimes that means you're not going to win. And that's okay. Being defeated by an opponent isn't an issue. Being defeated because you didn't even try _is_ a problem. Learn from this." 

Walter glanced quickly around the room. Although Abraham was the tallest and heaviest of the cadets, the man assigned as Murphy's sparring partner was physically his closest match. It took him a moment to recall the man's name, since he was one of the nine bland cadets whose chief characteristics seemed to be the complete absence of any individuality. 

"I want you to work with Agent Wheeler for the rest of the session. Alternate punching and blocking. Use your left hand to deflect his attack and your right to counterpunch. Once you feel more comfortable, you can move on to combinations. Always finish your combinations with a jab to re-establish your distance. When you're finished punching, move to the side. Changing the angles will further frustrate an opponent by not giving him a target. Mixing up these two points will keep your opponent guessing while you, in turn, figure out their openings." 

Abraham nodded his agreement. He still appeared slightly ashamed, but he had apparently listened carefully to Walter's advice and looked determined to utilize it. 

"Agent Krycek," Walter said, turning his attention on the younger man. 

During the conversation with Abraham, Krycek had regained his composure. He responded to his name by bouncing towards Walter, with a bright smile and an eager, "Yes, Sir?" 

It was painfully obvious that he was proud of his performance with Abraham and was expecting approval. He looked more like an eager puppy now than a snarling attack dog. Walter felt a twinge of genuine sorrow at having to kick that puppy. 

"Look at your hands," Walter snapped. 

"Sir?" 

"What are you wearing on your hands?" 

"Um... boxing gloves, Sir," Krycek replied, looking confused. 

"Well, at least that proves you legitimately passed your eye-test," Walter drawled. "So I have to assume your deficiency is mental, rather than physical." 

"Deficiency?" Krycek repeated, gulping heavily and looking like he'd been sucker-punched. 

"Would you like to explain to the rest of the class exactly what boxing rule allows you to knock an opponent to the floor, then jump on top of him and continue punching?" 

The color drained out of Krycek's face. "I...I...I..." he stuttered. 

"I didn't think so. The purpose of this particular training session was to assess your boxing skills, not to find out how useful you are in a bar brawl, Mr. Krycek." 

Several of the other cadets snickered loudly. Walter turned to glare at the culprits. "Give me twenty," he snapped, and the smirks slid off their faces as they dropped to the ground and started doing push-ups. 

"I'm not here to learn how to be a boxer," Krycek blurted defiantly. "I'm supposed to demonstrate I'm physically capable of apprehending and subduing a suspect." 

"What you're supposed to demonstrate is your ability to follow orders," Walter retorted. "And physical ability is secondary to a correct mental attitude. If you can't keep your temper in a combat situation, you have no place in the FBI." 

"Yes, Sir," Krycek replied, in a near whisper. Although his expression was a carefully controlled mask, the remaining color had drained out of his cheeks at the final comment and he looked so pale that Walter was worried he'd either faint or throw-up. The eager, almost adoring, light in his eyes that Walter had been enjoying since their first class had dulled. The green eyes were now flat and wounded, with just a faint glimmer that suggested Krycek was struggling against tears. 

Walter sighed internally. The reprimand had been necessary but the last thing he wanted to do was destroy Krycek's confidence or quell his obvious enthusiasm. Seeing those previously bright eyes now trying to hide from him under a frame of overlong eyelashes, Walter began to question his own harshness. So he deliberately pitched his voice into a far more friendly tone. 

"Being confident is essential. Over confidence can kill you. Being over-confident leads to under-training and risky fighting. The moment you start taking too many risks is the moment you get knocked out. It only takes one punch from any fighter, good or bad, to knock you on your butt. And luck will not always be on your side. It can turn on a dime and you're left to your own devices. Strive for perfection always and keep humble about your skills. It's obvious that you _do_ have a lot of potential, Agent Krycek. But it's going to require a lot of hard work and discipline before that potential becomes a skill that the FBI can utilize. " 

Krycek sniffed softly and nodded. 

"You can spend the rest of the session sparring with the punch-bag," Walter continued dryly. "At least that way I'll be able to see whether you have any skill boxing with a vertical opponent." 

Krycek winced slightly then he seemed to notice that Walter's mouth had relaxed into a genuine if understated smile. Sudden relief flooded the green eyes and Krycek managed to offer Walter a wry grin in response. 

* * *

"So, how did your first session go?" Jim Brown asked, as they ate lunch together in the Dean's office. 

Walter chewed and swallowed his mouthful of sandwich, then sighed expansively. "On the whole the class is pretty encouraging. Murphy's more than exceeding my expectations. I've scheduled Abraham for some additional training. He's walking proof of the adage `the bigger they are, the harder they fall'. I had him practicing blocks with Wheeler for over an hour and by the end of it he still was only managing to successfully deflect around one in three punches. For such a bright man, his physical reactions are pathetically slow. I'm worried about him." 

"I saw his split lip. At least Wheeler's reactions are on par." 

"Oh, that wasn't Wheeler. That was Krycek. I paired the two of them together before I realized Abraham fought like a constipated ox." 

Brown snorted and nearly choked as his food went down the wrong way. "I can't believe you ever imagined Krycek and Abraham to be an equal match," he laughed. 

"Krycek's as tall as me, and he's carrying some good solid muscle, Sir," Walter protested. 

"I wasn't referring to Krycek. The kid's a fireball, Walter. You can see it in his eyes and the way he struts down the corridors like he owns the place. He's caught the attention of a lot of people. Ambitious as hell, bright as a button, possibly the most promising cadet we have this term. He's a nice kid. Personable. But within five minutes of my initial interview with him, I found myself thinking that he's not as angelic as he looks. There's something in his eyes that tells me he'd be more at home with a leather jacket and a Harley. I look at him, and all I can think is he might make a good Agent but he's still the kind of `bad boy' I damned well wouldn't let my daughter date." 

Although he was careful to keep his expression neutral, Walter felt a burn in his cheeks that suggested he was blushing. Which wasn't surprising. The moment Brown had mentioned a leather jacket and a Harley, Walter had seen a clear mental image of the momentarily feral Krycek of that morning, draped indolently over a motorbike with a James Dean smirk on his face. His imaginary Krycek was unshaven, clad in black leather head to toe, and sucking suggestively on a cigarette. 

Jesus. What the hell was wrong with him? 

`Don't you dare take the Lord's name in vain,' his mother's voice snapped inside his head. 

An old, long-forgotten remembrance washed over him with the force of a tsunami, and it took all his self-control not to gasp out loud. His face filled with blood and his heart leaped into an erratic rhythm as memories chased each other through his head in a series of snap-shot images. 

"I'm going to be late for my next class," he blurted, surging to his feet and throwing the remains of his sandwich into the trashcan. 

Brown blinked at him uncertainly, but then smiled. "You really seem to be getting into the swing of things here, Walter. I appreciate your enthusiasm." 

"Thank you, Sir," Walter said, backing away and then almost running through the door. He needed some cold, fresh air, quickly. He sure as hell needed to get away from Brown before the Dean questioned the reason he was now so flushed that his face felt like it was on fire. 

He headed towards the nearest exit, but the doorway was blocked by a gaggle of cadets who were laughing and joking with each other. Unable to face trying to push himself through them, Walter spied the door to a washroom and entered. There were a couple of cadets at the urinals, so Walter entered one of the stalls, closed and locked the door, sat heavily on the toilet seat, buried his face in his hands, and finally allowed the memories to flood him. 

He'd been fifteen. 

It had been almost midnight and he'd been alone in the house because Mother had been attending a sacrament of holy unction for someone in the parish who was sick. Although the rite strictly called for seven priests, seven readings from the epistles and gospels, seven prayers and seven anointings with oil specifically blessed for the service, the normal procedure was simply to gather together as many priests and pious people as possible for the ritual. Since the death of his father, when Walter was eleven, his mother had thrown herself whole-heartedly into her faith. Too whole-heartedly in Walter's opinion - but then his opinion had never been asked. 

The unction had been for a parishioner who'd been in the very last stages of terminal cancer, and Mother had told him she didn't expect to be home until the following morning. 

Walter had arrived home late from school after attending football practice - the only after school activity that Mother approved of - and had eaten his dinner, done his chores in the backyard, and then worked diligently on his homework until 10.30. Then he'd gotten ready for bed and had walked right to the foot of the stairs before the devil had whispered temptation into his ear. 

He'd been lonely, tired, weak, or maybe - in retrospect - just a normal teenager, and had given into the temptation. He'd crept guiltily into the parlor, perched carefully on the dust-sheeted couch - the room was intended only for entertaining guests - and had turned on the black and white television set. 

For the first half-hour, except for the thrill of knowing he was doing something forbidden, his adventure had been an anti-climax. But then, at 11 o'clock, the film `Rebel Without A Cause' had come on and Walter had found himself lost in the story. He already knew that not everyone came from an Orthodox background like himself. He met enough kids at school from other denominations - or even shockingly from _no_ denomination - to understand that Mother's view of the world was not necessarily the _only_ view of the world. 

But overall, the community they lived in and the high school he attended, had been filled with equally `respectable' people, regardless of the diversity of religions. The most rebellious thing any local teenager had ever done was occasional under-age drinking and the unsubstantiated rumor that Mary Sue Parker hadn't missed nine months of school, being sent off to stay with relatives in another county, because she was `sick'. 

The story of Jim Stark was so alien to Walter's own experiences that it should have been impossible for him to empathize with the character. Yet, from the first moment James Dean strutted onto the screen, all sneering attitude and rebellious fury, Walter had, quite simply, fallen in love. The emotions he'd felt had confused him utterly. He hadn't known whether he wanted to _be_ Jim Stark, or simply to _know_ someone like Jim Stark. All he knew was that, for the first time in his life, someone was making his heart literally ache in his chest. 

It was also the first time in his life that he'd found himself reaching into his pajama bottoms and caressing his suddenly hard cock because of a feeling of arousal rather than the simple ache of a morning woody. 

He'd furiously told himself that if he touched himself he'd go blind. Father Constantin had frequently warned him of that direct consequence during his reluctant confessions. But, somehow, late at night, watching the forbidden movie, the Father's dire predictions had seemed far less frightening than the prospect of leaving the growing ache in his groin unsatisfied. 

He hadn't gone blind, although to this day he still felt guilty about needing glasses and occasionally wondered whether the Father had been right. And God hadn't struck him with a bolt of lightning although he knew that, according to Leviticus 20:10-16, people who committed homosexual acts (like jerking off to James Dean) ought to be `put to death'. (As an officer of the Law, he'd decided judgments like that were up to God himself to execute, rather than for other men to dispense. He didn't dispute God's word, but privately allowed for the fact that man's interpretation of that word _might_ be wrong). But God clearly _had_ decided that his offence deserved some kind of retribution because, as he'd been sitting there, his hand covered with his own juices, his eyes drooling over the TV screen, Mother had unexpectedly returned home. 

He'd been so mortified that he hadn't even put up a token protest when she'd grabbed him by the ear, dragged him into the kitchen, and whipped his ass bloody over the kitchen table (despite the fact that by fifteen he'd been over a foot taller than her and at least 60lbs heavier). He hadn't even protested when she'd made him spend the rest of the night, still bare-assed, kneeling on the cold tile floor and praying for forgiveness. 

Walter _had_ objected when she'd dragged him to see Father Constantin the next morning, but he'd been too ashamed of his own behavior to defy Mother, so his sin had been aired to the priest and he'd been given such a huge penance that he'd spent the best part of the next month with a rosary permanently pressed to his lips. 

He'd never watched a James Dean film again. Neither had he ever voluntarily masturbated himself again. There were mornings, naturally, when he woke up and discovered that his body had sinned against him in his sleep, but his current priest, Father Vittorio, had assured him that those kinds of sins didn't have to be confessed. 

Over the years he'd learned that physical exercise, particularly boxing, was the best outlet for that kind of ache. In `nam he'd learned that adrenaline alone could cause his cock to stiffen and that releasing that adrenaline in combat would release the painful pressure. 

Which was why, earlier that morning, he'd only been mildly disturbed that he'd become partially erect at the sight of Alex Krycek trembling with suppressed rage, his whole body sweat-sheened with exertion, and his bright eyes flashing with passion. Walter had told himself it was nothing more than his own body reacting instinctively to being in the direct vicinity of physical danger. 

But now, sitting in the sordid surroundings of a stall in the men's room, his cock again hard and aching to be touched, with Brown's words still echoing in his ears, Walter forced himself to examine his own behavior over the last couple of days and to face the truth of why he'd mentally envisaged Krycek as James Dean. 

And the truth, when it came to him, was unacceptable. 

He wished, more than anything, that, instead of having to face the younger man in that afternoon's "Chain of Evidence" class, he could jump straight in his car and drive to confession to absolve himself of his sin before it had a chance to grow. 

* * *

The afternoon class had gone well, despite the feeling of turmoil and confusion that were still roiling around inside Walter's stomach. It had taken a few minutes for him to prepare himself, to will the throbbing ache in his cock to subside but finally it had and he had left the men's room, his mind firmly fixed on the afternoon ahead. 

The students were already seated and waiting for him as he entered the classroom and smiling an apology for his tardiness, he quickly strode up to the front of the room, ready to begin. Turning to face his class, he caught sight of Alex Krycek and felt something catch in his throat. Then after restoring his equilibrium with a deep breath, Walter greeted his students. 

"Good afternoon everyone," Walter began. "Now we have already covered why it is so important that we have a Chain of Custody and now I wish to cover several other procedures that have been put in place to ensure..." 

Alex listened as Walter continued speaking, watching the way the older man moved. Murphy was right, the guy sure was built, broad shoulders and chest, a lean waist, and as for that ass... Alex could not help but notice the way Walter held himself, shoulders straight, body relaxed but losing none of the authority and assurance that naturally came with being older and more experienced. And even though he was still feeling a bit tender from the incident with the older man in the physical training class, he realized that there were no hard feelings. Walter had merely been firm but fair. Something Alex could both understand and respect. And he had to admit, it made Walter Skinner seem that little bit sexier as well. That thought brought a small smile to his lips. 

Suddenly he felt a sharp jab in his side and turned to glare at Murphy who was grinning at him. 

"What?" He hissed. 

"If you keep staring like that, your eyes are going to drop right out of your head." She whispered back, her eyes sparkling with humor. Rolling his eyes, Alex went back to watching Walter once more, ignoring the soft chuckle next to him. 

* * *

"Hungry?" Murphy asked as they both left the classroom and headed down the corridor. "We can grab something from the cafeteria if you want." 

"Yeah sure." Alex replied easily. "You buying Murph?" 

"Hey, I bought lunch last time." She laughed, punching him lightly on the shoulder. "It's your turn now." 

Alex grinned at her, eyes sparkling. "Okay, but only because I'm feeling generous." 

Murphy opened her mouth to retort, then stopped, her eyes wandering past Alex, turning Alex followed her gaze. 

"Don't look now, but there he is again." Murphy whispered. "Christ, what is his deal?" 

Alex frowned. It was the same guy that he had seen hanging around ever since they had arrived at Quantico. He was standing near a door, his pale blue eyes fixed on Alex, a cigarette dangling from his fingers despite the nearby 'no smoking' sign. 

"Come on Alex." Murphy said, tugging at his arm. "Let's just get out of here, okay." There was something about the guy that was starting to give her a serious case of the heebee jeebees now. The smoking creep, as she had privately dubbed him, seemed to pop up everywhere, and mostly where ever Alex happened to be at the time. And that was enough to send her alarms ringing. After all, she could not help but feel protective of Alex. 

"Yeah, good idea." Alex muttered as he allowed himself to be pulled away. Once outside and away from that disconcerting gaze, he was able to breathe properly again. 

"Who the hell is that creep?" Murphy said as they both headed towards the cafeteria. "It's as though he's following you everywhere." 

Alex said nothing, instead he pushed the incident towards the back of his mind as he followed her inside the already crowded cafeteria. 

* * *

With his classes over for the day, Walter was able to return to his office to go over some paperwork. Grabbing a cup of coffee, he settled down behind his desk, preparing to do some work. 

Suddenly he looked up as someone tapped on his door. 

"Walter, are you busy?" It was the Dean, Jim Brown. 

"No, not at all." Walter said, pushing the papers aside. "Come on in." He waved towards a chair sitting near his desk. The Dean entered the office and sat down. 

"So how was your afternoon class?" He asked. 

Walter shrugged. "Quite good, I think I am beginning to impress upon them the importance of procedure." 

Brown nodded. "Good, that's good. I think you are doing a fine job here Walter, the students seem to have taken a liking to you as well, and for a teacher that's important." 

"Thank you." Walter replied. "That's very encouraging." 

"Well, as long as everything is going smoothly." Brown replied. "Well, I'm off for the day, I'll see you tomorrow, bright and early." 

"Good-bye." Walter said as he watched the Dean exit, closing the door behind him. Then reaching over, took a mouthful of the now tepid coffee and winced. 

Oh to hell with it, the paperwork could wait another evening. Suddenly finding that he needed to stretch his limbs, Walter left his office and after a moment's decision, headed towards the gym. 

* * *

Alex whistled as he changed into his gym shorts and a T-shirt. It had been a long day and he had wanted to get some exercise in before he turned in for the night. Murphy had turned down his offer of a workout, claiming that there was some studying she needed to catch up on instead. 

The gym was not very busy, in fact there were only a couple of cadets working out with some weights. After doing his warm up exercises, Alex decided on the bench press, and that was when he saw Walter Skinner. 

Stopping uncertainly, he watched as the bigger man worked out, his muscles bulging as he lifted the weights over his head. 

Swallowing past the sudden obstruction in his throat, Alex quickly turned and headed over to the other exercise equipment nearby. Settling himself down onto the padded seat, he grasped the metal bar overhead and began to pull it down towards him, feeling the pressure on his torso and upper arms. Gradually he got into a rhythm, up...down...up...down, the sweat beginning to gleam on his face and arms. 

"I think you might have a little too much weight on that." 

Startled, Alex looked up into the face of the AD. "Wha..?" 

"The weights." Walter said. "I think you need to take a couple off." 

"Uh, okay." Alex watched as Walter bent down to loosen the weights, removing a couple and placing them back onto the rack where they were kept. 

"There, trying it now, see how it feels." 

Alex began pulling the bar down towards him once more, then nodded. "Yeah, that feels better thanks." The bar's movement was smoother and there was less strain on his muscles. Usually he checked the weights first before he started using the equipment, but the sight of Walter working out had distracted him somewhat and this time he hadn't. 

Walter nodded. "I'll see you in class tomorrow." With that, he turned and headed towards the men's locker room. Alex watched him go, noting the way the older man's butt moved as he walked. Oh yeah, he thought, you sure could bounce a dime off it. The thought made him smile, before going back to his exercises with renewed vigor. 

The hot water felt good against Walter skin as he stood, letting the gush of steaming water sluice over him. His mother had been pretty big on cold water showers, telling him that a little suffering was good for his soul. 

Walter sighed as he pushed the memory of his mother's hectoring voice to the back of his mind as he ran the soap over his chest. Suddenly the image of Alex intruded into his mind, Alex standing beside him in the shower, the water beading the smooth skin of his body... 

Suddenly Walter became aware of the throbbing ache as his cock came to life and he moaned softly. 

//Thinking those filthy thoughts again Walter?// 

Walter squeezed his eyes shut, willing that nagging voice to disappear when suddenly a memory rose unbidden in his mind. 

He had only been twelve when he had found the magazine sitting on top of the neighbor's trashcan. Mr Harrington had been cleaning out his garage and had decided to throw all the old news papers and junk away. Walter had been walking home from school when he had found the magazine. Snatching up the battered old National Geographic, he had hurried straight home with it. 

With his heart thudding in his chest, he had gone straight to his room to study the pictures of the near naked villagers. He had found the images of the men to be more fascinating than the women though. The way they had stood in those old black and white photographs. Holding their spears and huge animal skin shields, their heads high and proud and seeming unaware of the intrusion of the photographer's camera. 

Walter had spent every spare minute he could studying the pages, fascinated. In his mind he could hear the drums beating a frantic rhythm, punctuated by the roars of lions, the trumpeting of elephants, just like an old Tarzan movie he had once been able to watch when his mother had gone out to visit a sick friend who worked with her in the church. The photographs made his stomach tingle in a way he had never experienced before. 

He had always been very careful to hide the magazine under his mattress, pushing it in deep. His own delicious //sinful// little secret. 

Until his mother had decided to clean his room. 

She had come across the magazine when she had decided to turn the mattress and that was when all hell had broken loose. 

Walter's stomach churned at the memory of the sheer fury on her face, the way her mouth had tightened down into a thin line, her nostrils flaring, quivering with outrage as she had stormed into the living room brandishing the magazine. 

"Filthy little sinner!" She had shrieked at him, holding it up for him to see. Walter had cringed back, terrified. 

"Dirty little pervert!" She had then proceeded to slap him around his head and shoulders with it, screaming at him all the while. Weeping more with fear than pain and with hands over his head Walter had curled up into a ball, desperately trying to protect himself. It had done no good though, his mother had kept on hitting him with the magazine until it had finally fallen apart, the pages fluttering all over the room. That done, his mother had then dragged him up by the back of his collar with such force that the seam had given way. Hauling him over the back of the couch, she hurried over to the wall were a thick heavy strap hung. She had placed it there next to a picture of Christ's Passion to remind Walter of what happened to boys that sinned. Snatching it down, she had beat Walter's ass with it until he had nearly passed out. 

It had taken him three days to recover from the whipping, and another month to complete his penance. Walter had never picked up another National Geographic again, the very sight of them making him feel faintly ill. His mother had never mentioned it, but after that, Walter knew that she searched his room when he was at school to make sure that her son was no longer sneaking godless material into her house. 

Pushing the unwanted memory away, Walter turned the water off, and grabbing a towel, dried himself, his erection gone. Then after dressing, he made his way back over to his office to lose himself in the waiting paperwork. 

* * *

Alex continued his workout for only a short time. He knew he shouldn't, but couldn't resist. He slipped into the locker room, making himself as unobtrusive as possible. He watched as Walter lathered his body. When Walter's eyes closed, his dick began to rise; Alex was pleased and a little stunned. He froze in place anticipating a private sex show. 

Alex was surprised when Walter swayed and let out a low groan. Alex shifted his attention to Walter face to see a grimace there. Whatever, wherever his thoughts had drifted it was not a happy place. 

Walter's body began to hunch inward. His cock lost all sign of arousal. As Walter reached for the shower handles, Alex slipped quickly from the room. He waited until he saw Walter leave the locker room to take his own shower and go back to his room. 

He spent a long time lying in the dark wondering what demons haunted his instructor. Even at his age, he was good at reading people. He drifted to sleep with the thought that maybe he could help slay those demons. 

* * *

The next day when Walter paired them for boxing lessons, he remembered well the words of the day before. If nothing else, Alex learned from his mistakes and didn't repeat them. 

As Walter walked around the room, he took note of Krycek's controlled jabs, the way the boy danced around the man he'd been teamed with. He couldn't stop the smile of pleasure in the thought that Alex had listened. 

Near the end of the hour, Walter had them all take a seat on the mats. He went from person to person, making positive and negative comments on the execution of the exercises, saving Alex for last. 

"Krycek, it appears you take instruction well. Today's performance was superior to yesterday's." 

"Thank you, Sir." 

"I'd like you to put in at least another hour today on the bag. You're still dropping your left shoulder too far during your jabs." 

"Yes, Sir." Unlike the day before, Walter saw no hurt in the green eyes. They were clear, calm, and compliant. 

He smiled and scanned the rest of his class. "That will be all for today. I'll see you all in class later." 

He turned to pick up the folder he'd left on the table but felt the presence behind him. 

"AD Skinner, I wonder if you might be willing to give me some extra coaching this weekend. I really want to do the best I can at this job so, I'm willing to put in the extra hours." 

"That type of devotion is becoming rare in this world, Agent. I'd be glad to spend a couple of hours with you on Saturday." 

"Thank you, Sir. Just tell me what time to meet you." 

"I'll let you know on Friday." 

Alex nodded and turned to hurry toward the shower, he didn't want to be late for his next class. Walter took the folder and made his way out to the grounds. He had two hours before his class in which to make notes on the trainees. 

He glanced up as Krycek ran from the gym and toward the forensics building. The sight of that sleek body, muscles as toned as a jungle cat, set Walter's groin to throbbing. He closed his eyes to blot out the vision but that didn't help. 

//You'll burn for eternity, Walter. It's an abomination for men to lie together. The only sanctioned sex takes place in the marriage bed for procreation. Do you think I don't see you? Watching that boy, lusting for him.// 

Would he never be free of her voice? He dimly remembered a time when his mother was not so rigid. Before his father had died, she laughed. He'd seen his father kiss her, heard the sounds of passion from their room at night. How had she changed? Why did she stop loving him? He knew part of her blamed him for his father's death, but he was her son. Weren't mothers supposed to love unconditionally? 

Another memory took possession of him. He'd scored the winning touchdown at the homecoming game. One of the cheerleaders had asked him to go to the dance with her after the game. He knew at the time he'd get into trouble, but he was a horny teenager and the girl had a reputation for being easy. 

He hadn't counted on his mother having the tracking skills of a bloodhound. They were making out, fogging up the windows, Brenda had her hand down his pants, his was up her skirt. Mother opened the door of the car. His mother literally yanked him out by his ear. 

"You harlot! Have you no shame? And you, Walter, have you not been told often enough about the sins of the flesh? No son of mine will sin while under my roof. Get in the car we're going home." 

When Mother had finished with him, he'd been unable to sit with any degree of comfort for well over a week. Plus he didn't dare shower after gym class or practice due to shame at the idea of anyone seeing the welts and bruises on his back, ass, thighs and genitals. From that night forward, she was at every game and he went straight home with her. 

He opened his eyes pushing the memory away and worked on his notes. He arrived on time for the class to find that Krycek was in place looking eager. He smiled at the boy before he could stop himself. The smile he received in return, gave him a warm feeling inside. 

The class went well, with a couple of the clones showing him they had been paying attention. Midway through the class, he'd led them into the crime scene room and observed while they put what they'd learned so far into practice. He felt a sense of pride that very few mistakes were made. Giving constructive feedback and asking questions finished up the class for the day. 

"Good job today, people. I'll see you all on the field later for football." 

* * *

As he started out to the field later that day, he saw the smoker sitting on the sidelines. He'd had a few encounters with the man. He didn't like or trust him. He wasn't sure why the man was hanging around but decided to find out. 

Marching across to him, Walter spoke harshly. "Why are you here?" 

"One of the new agents interests me." 

"Really? Which one would that be?" 

"Actually, I misspoke. There are at least two that have the potential to do well on the projects I'm involved with." 

"Why don't you recruit somewhere else? This class could be one of the best to come out of this place." 

"You should understand that I find talent wherever it happens to be." 

Walter caught movement in the corner of his eye and turned enough to realize his class was showing up. He knew he'd have to bide his time to find out who the smoker was looking to corrupt. 

Turning, he headed toward where the class was assembling. Taking the bag from his shoulder, he began handing out the flags for each one to tuck into their waistbands. The bright red would be easy to spot during the game. 

Walter would have preferred the normal form of the game. Right at that moment he felt the need to tackle someone. But the class was about helping keep the agents in shape, building team skills, and agility, not brute force. 

The class was divided into teams and the instructor who had offered to act as referee gave them the coin toss. Walter was on the opposite team from Alex. His side had won the coin toss. 

For the first play of the game, Walter acted as quarterback. He bent into the crouch behind Abraham and slipped his hand forward to receive the ball. The snap was made; he found only Murphy open and lobbed the ball toward her. 

Walter watched with pride in her as she caught the ball and zigzagged down the field. Most of the men had the speed to catch her but she had the agility to evade them. But Alex, who'd been running with her regularly managed to catch the end of one of her flags. He followed her the few feet it took her to come to a stop. 

The two friends grinned at each other. Walter watched them for a minute then he turned to see the smoker staring at Krycek. He didn't for a minute believe it was Murphy that the man was watching. She was old enough to avoid a man as slimy as Spender. No, it had to be the baby of the class he had his eye on. 

Walter had read Krycek's file after the first class. The kid was smart, knew how to speak Russian, one of the reasons he'd been accepted shortly before he'd reached the minimum age for agents. He made top marks during college. His psych tests showed him to be the kind of man the bureau was looking for. 

Walter had seen something in the psych report that told him Spender's methods might work on this eager young pup. Immediately, Walter made up his mind that he'd keep that from happening. Whatever it took, he'd protect Alex from ending up with that man. 

For the next play of the game, Murphy took over as quarterback. As Walter ran down the field, he remembered the freedom that team sports always made him feel. It was good to be a part of a group. 

He backpedaled watching the ball arc into the air toward him. He caught it easily, shoved it tightly under his arm and ran for the goal line. Later, the others would confirm Alex's version of what happened. Not that Walter had a real reason to doubt him. 

He felt a hand grabbing at the flag hanging by his hip. Then he felt the impact as the body collided with his. The hand slid further, tightened down on his dick and then the two of them were falling. 

Walter hit the ground, a body landed on his back; the breath whooshed out of him. Somehow, that hand was under his body, trapped against his cock and said appendage started taking an interest, in spite of the lack of oxygen. 

He lay still waiting for his lungs to fill and trying to ignore the hot lean body resting on his and the hand that was gripping him. It never occurred to him to wonder why the hand was still gripping him. 

Sound began to filter through. Voices over lapping as the weight on his back rolled to the side, considering the trapped hand that was as far as Alex could go. 

Under other circumstances, Alex would have smiled. After all, he had a large semi-hard dick in his hand. 

Walter's head rose, he looked at the man lying next to him as he panted for breath. The green, guileless eyes looked back at him. A very slight tightening of the hand cupping him the only sign that Alex was anything other than innocent. 

"I'm sorry, Sir. I stepped in a hole and lost my balance." 

"Alex, are you alright? Did you sprain your ankle?" Murphy, ever the mother hen asked frantically. 

"I don't think so." 

Walter lifted his hips slightly and Alex pulled his hand out quickly. Alex sat up and rubbed at his ankle as Walter used the excuse of being winded to stay on his stomach a moment longer. 

The instructor helped Walter move to the sidelines as Murphy practically carried Alex there. The rest of the group continued the game. Alex rubbed his injured leg. Walter used the time to get his body calmed. 

He wasn't sure how he felt, or if he should say anything to Alex. He did know that it had felt nice, more than nice, to have someone touch him. He couldn't remember the last time he had been touched by someone other than a doctor. 

Alex was waiting nervously for a backhand or the quiet words that would tell him that his career was over before it had started. When neither came, he peeked at Walter, to see the man rubbing his eyes. When Walter stopped, Alex turned away quickly. 

That was when he noticed the smoker sitting across the field, staring at them. Walter noticed him as well. 

"Has that man approached you?" 

"No, Sir, why?" 

"If he does let me know right away. Don't listen to anything he may say to you." 

"I don't understand." 

"Just do as I say." Walter growled. 

Alex turned puzzled eyes toward Skinner but the man didn't look at him. He rose to his feet and went out onto the field, sending Murphy to sit with Alex. 

* * *

Walter closed his last file and set it aside for the evening. He removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes, trying to force the memory of the hand on his groin from his mind. He was thankful that he could quickly retire to his office after the game, where he'd left his clothes. It didn't matter that he smelled like a locker room. He just wanted to be away from those haunting green eyes. 

Since the administration wing was empty for the evening, he did something he normally wouldn't do. The handicapped bathroom was the only one on the floor that was its own room, for obvious reasons, so he slipped in, removed all of his clothing, washed himself from the sink, cursed that he only had paper towels to dry himself, and redressed in his clothing. He made his way back to his office and locked up for the night, knowing that a hot shower and soft pajamas waited at home for him. 

As he walked across campus, he saw a few of the cadets, in nicer street clothes, walking toward the parking lot. Right away, his eyes found Murphy hanging onto Alex as they laughed at a joke. A few of the clones were with them. It seemed they were headed toward cars parked near Walter's. 

"Mr. Skinner! Sir, we're going to a local pub!" Alex called out. "You wanna come along, get a drink with us?" The whole group turned toward him and froze. Walter knew it was not usual practice to ask an instructor to go for drinks. When he was in the academy...well, suffice to say, he didn't go drinking with his fellow cadets, much less an instructor. 

"Krycek, thank you, but I can't. The life of an assistant director doesn't lend itself to Thursday night drinking outings. I trust you will all be in class tomorrow morning on time. Good night, then." Walter quickly unlocked his door and slid into the driver's seat of his Lincoln Towncar. Gripping the wheel, he tried to get the dizzy swirls from his head and gut. Out for drinks, why is it that this week his mother and every bad memory of his past chose to revisit him? 

Senior Prom was close to a disaster. He'd made sure he asked a nice girl this time, not like the Homecoming disaster with Brenda. It took days of begging his mother for some of his paper route money to buy the prom tickets and rent his tuxedo. He went with tasteful black. He had asked Iris Burton to go, and since she was one of the daughters of Mother's sewing circle ladies, she was deemed worthy to date. 

"Don't you forget, Walter, that God sees everything. He will punish you for everything you do wrong. I want you home at eleven thirty. That will give you enough time to get your...date home and get back here to go to bed." 

"Mother, please. Everyone will be going out after prom to another party. Please can I go? I have the car, you know I won't drink or anything. Please, Mother, let me go, please?" Walter felt ridiculous. He was an eighteen-year-old man. He shouldn't be begging his "Mommy" to let him play with his friends. He also knew that she wouldn't hesitate to strap him, and he would never think to try and stop her. Putting his hands on his mother...he would rather spend an infinite eternity in hell than touch Mother in anger. 

So he drove their 1964 Chevy Corvair, the last car his father bought, to Iris' house. He walked down the flagstones to her porch, white lily wrist corsage in a box in his hands. He didn't know the color dress she was wearing, so the florist told him to just take white. He nearly passed out from embarrassment when the florist suggested it might go on the bodice and wanted to teach him how to pin it on with out being "inappropriate". He quickly pushed that idea away. 

Of course, the prom was sickly-sweet, with crepe paper as far as the eye could see and sparkles on everything that would stand still. "Above the Stars" was the theme, with planets and stars and space ships everywhere. He should have taken that as an omen for his life's direction. Iris quickly pulled him to sit with her friends, which didn't really bother him. He didn't have many close friends, due to the embarrassment he felt over his mother's fanaticism. 

They danced, ate the pastries that were laid out, drank punch, joked with friends, and danced more. Walter finally felt normal. All too soon, the familiar opening chords and Ben E. King's proud voice began "Save the Last Dance for Me". Iris pressed against him, holding him tightly. Walter could only pray for strength. She looked up, he looked down, her eyes closed...and he couldn't bring himself to kiss her. 

He knew he was embarrassing her, God, she turned such a pretty shade of pink when she blushed. All he could hear was his mother's voice telling him that he would burn in hell for committing sins of the flesh. When it came time to leave the prom, all of Iris' friends were gathered to the side of the doors. She took Walter's big hand and pulled him over. 

"Tommy's got a keg in the car," Brenda started. "We're going to the lake to get drunk and act like hippies. We'll meet you there." 

Walter had to look away when Brenda started talking. It had taken weeks before he had the nerve to go to her and apologize. He was thankful she kept the commotion his mother caused to herself. He was highly embarrassed. She accepted his apology. And never spoke to him again. 

Iris again pulled Walter toward his car and said, "My mom didn't give me a curfew tonight. She knew I would be with my friends all night long, so we can stay out until sunrise, OK? God! Baldwin Lake, for real! This is the first time I've ever gone there, what's it like?" 

Baldwin Lake was on the outskirts of Middleburg Heights where they lived. All the seniors in high school went there to hang out, make out, fuck, drink, smoke some weed, whatever. So long as the kids didn't start too big of a fire, or bury a body, the cops pretty much left them alone. Walter had never had the opportunity to spend time there, either. 

"I can't go. My mom wants me right home," he said. He looked away, more embarrassed than he'd ever been in his life. 

"What? Seriously? Oh, come on, Walter! I mean...this is the night that all guys get lucky, right?" She looked up at him salaciously, a twinkle of sin in her eye. Walter's cock began to appreciate how her light blue dress hugged her body. 

"I really can't, Iris, I'm so sorry. We...uh...have a family outing we're attending, and in order to get there on time, we have to get up early. My mother doesn't drive, so I have to drive her. Really, I'm sorry. I can take you home, though." 

"What? Forget it!" She looked at him as if he was nuts. "I'm going with Brenda and Tommy. Maybe I'll find someone there to take me home, when I'm ready. Goodbye, Walter." 

She walked away and left him standing there, dumbfounded. He didn't like lying and would confess at church the next day. The new young priest at St. Cyril's understood teenagers, or at least, that's what he told the youth bible study group every Sunday. Until then, he would have to just bear that he was dumped by his prom date. 

Head hanging, he walked to his car, drove home and sat in front of the house, counting down the minutes until eleven-thirty. If in any small way he could rebel, he would. He would not walk in there a minute before his curfew, so help him... 

When he did make it into the house, he found Mother asleep on the couch, bible open on her chest. He didn't have the heart to wake her, so he carefully marked her place with one of the many mass cards in the book, and then covered her with the afghan that lay across the back of the couch. She would wander to bed on her own later. 

He went into his room, removed his tuxedo and slipped into his plain blue pajamas. In the moonlight streaming through the windows, the blue looked the same as Iris' dress. A wave of embarrassment and sadness washed over Walter and he buried his face in his pillow to cry. He had to lie to avoid someone learning about his mother. No, going out with groups after events was definitely not in Walter's repertoire. 

* * *

"What was that all about, Krycek?" Webber asked. Alex looked the man over and considered the dark blond short haircut and flat hazel eyes to be about as nondescript as a man could look. 

"What was what?" Alex asked back. He knew what Webber was actually asking, but he wanted to hear the man say it, so he could get pissed. 

"Why would you invite AD Skinner to the pub with us? He could be our boss you know. I hear they call him 'Old Stone Face' at the Hoover." 

'More like rock-hard abs' he thought to himself. "Well, I mean, he knows his shit, man. Why not get him here, lubricate him and get the real deal on being an agent, you know? Find out what it's REALLY like out there, so the last thing we do is fuck up day one." 

"There goes Little Alex Brown-nose again," another of the dark-blond buzz-cut guys said. This one had flat brown eyes. Not the rich milk chocolate color of Walter's eyes. 

"Yeah, that's me. I guess it's late enough, guys, and Murphy, I'm gonna get back to the dorms. Murphy, if you want a ride with me, come on." Alex was not gentle in getting up from the table and dropping a twenty dollar bill on the table for the one beer he and Murphy each had. She followed him out, and Alex felt bad that she scurried to follow him. 

"Hey, Alex, slow down!" she called out. He waited a moment for her and they strode to his car together. He did like driving around in the little Dodge Neon, even though it was sunny yellow. They both folded their long legs into the car and Alex took off back to Quantico. "OK, so...how loudly are you pronouncing your crush on Skinner? Or am I just picking up on the clues?" 

Alex jumped a bit. He looked over at her briefly. "OK, so...what do you want me to say? Yeah, I like him. He's straight and he's my superior. I'm not gonna fuck up my career before I even start it." 

Alex almost believed the lie himself. He drove carefully back to the academy. 

* * *

Walter sat at his desk in his house, not finding sleep easy. Morpheus was determined to visit him last. 

//Believing in false gods will ensure your place in hell, Walter.// 

Taking a deep breath, he picked up the phone and dialed the number he knew he would never forget. Two rings and the voice said, "Hello?" 

"Sharon?" 

"Walter, hello! How are you doing?" He wanted to weep at how pleased she sounded to hear him. 

"Oh, I'm well. I couldn't sleep and I was hoping you were awake. How have you been?" He removed his glasses to rub his eyes. 

"I'm well. I love working at the Smithsonian, Walter. Thank you for making that call for me. Being an assistant curator is just a dream come true." Walter felt the tears stinging the backs of his eyes at the sound of her so happy. "So, how have things been going for you? What have you been doing lately?" 

"Oh, I've been teaching at Quantico." Walter was careful to sound neutral. 

"Really? Do assistant directors do that? What are you teaching? What are your students like? Are you enjoying it?" Questions, questions, Sharon always wanted to know everything about him, all his secrets. Some secrets were never meant to be told. 

"Custody of evidence and boxing," he informed her. 

"Boxing? Are you still doing that? It's so dangerous, Walter, really. How are your students? Any promising ones?" Walter was steadying himself, but he felt his head swimming. 

//Don't you tell that harlot anything, Walter.// 

"Oh, one or two. Look, I should..." 

"Walter," she said, quickly. Her voice was softer, deeper. "I'm so sorry about everything. We've gone over this so many times. I love you so much, but I can't live like that anymore. Please, understand..." 

"I do, Sharon. I just wanted to make sure you were doing well." His resolve was wavering. There was a long, pregnant pause. 

"If you're still feeling guilty, Walter, I want you to stop that right now. I may be your 'estranged wife' but I'm still your wife. And I still love you. She's gone, now. She doesn't control you. She never did. Her death is not your fault. Nor is your father's death, no matter what she told you. People die, Walter, it's a fact of life. You are a normal, healthy, sexual man. Let go, of her, of your guilt, of your shame. Be who you are and know that I love you no matter who that man is. Do I make any sense to you?" 

Taking a last deep breath, Walter said, "Yes, Sharon. You're right. I should go, early classes. Good night." He could barely speak from the tightness in his chest. 

She sighed resignedly. "Good night, Walter," and she hung up on him. 

Walter replaced the receiver on the cradle and sat, staring at the phone, not moving, until he could keep his eyes open no longer. He finally pushed all of the hurt and fear and shame into his gut. If he didn't, surely he would explode intestines and bile all over his nice white walls. He stood and went to bed. 

* * *

The late night didn't have much effect on Alex. He had never needed that much sleep, which allowed for him to have the kind of social life he preferred in college and still rack up the grades. 

Murphy however looked tired and growled at him when he tried to hug her in sympathy. "Let's run. I need to clear my head. Now center yourself." 

Today it clicked. His entire body moved together, his long legs aligned with his torso and his speed picking up without the wasted motion. 

"Damn, Alex," Murphy said. "You have it, kid. Damn, do it just like that." 

The speed was intoxicating. Alex ran his heart out, wishing that AD Skinner was here to see him today. After cooling down exercises, Alex rested a moment, sprawled on the ground, enjoying the feel of the grass, still cool with morning dew. Murphy sat next to him, her head back as she waited for her body to come down from the exhilaration of the run. 

"You looked great," Murphy said, "It all came together." 

"I know," Alex replied. "I felt so good." 

"It was beautiful," Murphy said. "You were beautiful." 

Alex looked at her, a little worried. He was sure she knew about him and, besides, he liked having a big sister. He was an only child and his family had moved so much when he was a kid, he missed out on any long term friendships. 

Laughter answered his concern. Murphy said, "Get off the ego trip, baby brother. It was an aesthetic appraisal not a come on. You ready to go grab a shower?" 

"Yeah," Alex said. "although I'm in no hurry to go to our pathology class." 

"Scully has a sub in there. Rumor has it that she's doing something with Spooky Mulder, her ex-partner," Murphy said. 

"Don't call him that," Alex said. He had heard all about Mulder, seen his picture, and half the reason he was aching to be appointed to the DC office was in the hopes of somehow working a case with Fox Mulder. It wasn't just that the guy was pretty. It wasn't that at all...his mind drifting to AD Skinner suddenly. Alex had some side interests he didn't share with many people. He was somewhat of a conspiracy buff and also had been a member of the college science fiction club. He was a believer, in UFOs, government cover-ups, intelligent life on other planets, and the paranormal in general. Although there was a lot of bullshit out there, masquerading as the unknown, there were also genuine, unexplained phenomena. 

"I know, Alex," Murphy said. "They do call him that, you know, and there's nothing you can do about it." 

"A lot of these guys are nothing but cattle," Alex commented. "Moo, moo, and follow the rest even if they are going to slaughter. I don't want to be like them." 

"I know," Murphy said, "Go get your shower, sweetie. I have a feeling pathology is going to be a rough ride." 

* * *

Oh, fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. 

Alex had walked into the class and saw a well-built man with coal black hair, a neat beard and mustache, and sizzling nearly black eyes. The man's eyes looked him from head to toe and back as if meeting him in the kind of bar where you go to get laid. 

Before Alex had a chance to react to the look, the man had turned and yelled, "Henderson, please bring in the cadaver!" 

"Good morning, class," the man said. "I am Doctor Morton, a specialist in forensic pathology. I will be taking Dr. Scully's place for the remainder of this class. In today's exercise, we will be practicing field techniques for finger printing and bagging a corpse's hands. Some of you may feel that this is unnecessary, expecting a crime scene team to be available for such duties. Having been in obscure FBI field offices at the beginning of my career, I can assure you that such luxuries are not always available. Unless you wish to spend your career in such postings to which I referred, I suggest you be able to perform any and all duties that are required by yourself." 

This Morton guy was a real sadist. Alex hung back, wondering if there was anyway that he could avoid the experience of scraping under the corpse's fingernails for samples, finger printing the body, and then bagging the hands for advanced work in pathology. 

Although the body was a donated one, it had been allowed to ripen enough to produce the effect that pathologists and the unfortunate law enforcement officers who encountered decayed bodies called slippage. The skin was coming away from the body. 

"Mr. Krycek, you are last. Please come forward," Morton said. 

Double fuck. Alex's legs felt as if they were made of rubber. He wobbled as he stepped toward the corpse. "Glove, Mr. Krycek." 

Alex was already gowned, the disposable covers protecting his street clothing, but he had put off wearing the two pairs of gloves they were expected to wear to protect themselves from infection from the cadaver. 

Morton was smirking as Alex struggled to get into the protective gloves despite his shaking hands. It took him at least five minutes to succeed in putting on first the one pair and then the next. He tried not to look at the yellowish brown skin of the cadaver, but still saw enough to know it was a young man, about his own age. That made it worse for Alex. He couldn't help thinking that a few days ago this guy was laughing and joking the way Alex did. He probably was thinking more about the next time he was going to get some than of any possibility that he could die. 

Murphy had told Alex that you get through this kind of thing by depersonalizing the body. Be respectful, but think of the body as a science project, not as a person. She had even shared the old trick of smearing Vicks Vapor rub under your nose. Outside of class, she had taken out a tiny jar and dabbed some under Alex's nose, teasing him about how cute it was. It had made Alex smile and feel that he could get through this exercise, but now... 

Trembling, Alex's hands succeeded in scraping for samples. He decided to think about something pleasant, AD Skinner's butt, instead of what he was doing, but even that topic was not compelling enough to distract him from utter horror. 

"Very good," Morton's voice said, coming from right next to Alex's ear. 

When had the instructor moved so close? Why? Alex felt a shiver go up his spine, warning bells. He was pretty, sweet and innocent appearing. Every once in a while, someone at a gay club or bar would react to that by thinking he would be ever so lovely on a leash. That was never going to happen. Alex didn't mind top or bottom, but he wasn't anyone's sub, not in sex, not in any environment. He wasn't sure why Morton struck him as the kind of guy who likes to play master, but his instincts told him that it was true. 

"Now the prints," Morton said. "Gently take the hand and press the fingertips to the ink." 

It might have been okay, but somehow Morton's hand grazed his ass as he solicitously stepped close to help Alex with the fingerprint paper. Jumping away, Alex tugged on the cadaver's hand. The fucking skin all sloughed away until he was holding a wrinkled, limp glove made of skin. 

Only the fact that Alex froze kept him from throwing the disgusting thing across the room. He stood, looking at the horrific object, bile rising in his throat, his legs now seriously threatening to go out from under him, and his head spinning. 

"I was almost hoping this would happen," Morton said. "This mishap is relatively common when corpses are found after a long delay. In early days of our work, this would mean the end of any attempt to obtain a print. However one enterprising and dedicated pathologist noticed that there was a ready solution." 

"Your hand, Agent Krycek," Morton said, taking the glove of skin in his own grasp. 

"Your hand, Krycek, hold up your hand," Morton said. 

Oh God! Helpless to disobey, Alex put his hand up as if he was a toddler waiting for mother to put on his mittens. Morton delicately fitted the wet, yellow leather of the skin over Alex's hand. 

Morton held up Alex's hand by the wrist and said, "As you see, we now have a way to get a good print. Some pathologists vastly prefer this method and will induce gloving if it does not occur naturally. Very good, Agent Krycek, now we will simply have you press your fingers in the cadaver's skin as if we were taking your finger prints." 

Managing to complete the action, Alex wobbled as Morton removed the skin from his hands, laid it back over the corpse's yellow and pink flesh, and bagged the loose skin with the hand. 

"Class dismissed," Morton said. "I wish to speak to Agent Krycek alone. Please come prepared for a two day field trip tomorrow. I am aware that it's the weekend. Think of this as an introduction to your lives as FBI agents. Unexpected events will call upon you at all hours and any day. AD Skinner and I will be combining our classes and your other instructors have combined their curriculums to incorporate into the exercise. You are lucky, agents, as this exercise is usually conducted in February. However, this year not only have we decided to include an extra session, but we will be conducting a mock investigation at the site. We will have a crime scene set up that is very realistic, including the use of real cadavers and parts there of." 

Alex still couldn't move. He stood there, eyes on the floor as Morton's assistant rolled the corpse away to cold storage. 

Morton's voice snapped as he said, "Agent Murphy, is there some part of `clear the room' that you fail to understand?" 

"Look, Doctor Morton," Murphy said. "I'm Krycek's friend. He's brand new. I think he did great for someone who has never faced this in the field. Give the kid a break." 

"I was not aware that Agent Krycek needed a wet nurse. As you are aware, this is my class now. Mr. Krycek's reactions to what will be part of his work are a serious concern that I need to personally evaluate," Morton said. 

That shook Alex from his trance. He turned to look at Murphy, seeing the concern in her warm brown eyes. He managed a weak smile and pulled off the gloves, walking over to throw them in the hazardous waste box. 

"Catch up with you later," Alex said to Murphy. "I'm fine." 

Although he felt queasy and was glad he had skipped breakfast before coming to this class, Alex felt he could handle it. Murphy waved at him, her eyes still concerned and shut the door behind her. 

What did Morton want? 

The instructor came close again. He still wore gloves. He said, "Agent Krycek, I have the feeling you almost fainted in class. I have reviewed Dr. Scully's notes and see that she felt you were having problems with the lab parts of this class although you readily absorbed the text book material. Being an FBI agent means having real life skills, not the type of thing you can cover with academic polish." 

"I didn't pass out," Alex said. `Or throw up,' he added in his own head, `although it was close'. 

"Yes, but," Morton begin, but stopped to chuckle. "Why my dear Agent Krycek, you really got into the lab or rather it left its mark on you." 

What the hell did Morton mean and why the hell was he shoving on a fresh pair of gloves? 

"If I may," Morton said, grabbing an evidence bag. 

Alex followed the fingers down until he saw a small, but identifiable scrap of translucent yellow clinging to the lab coat that covered his street clothing. Morton picked it up, dangled it in front of Alex's face and said, "A good example of why cases are solved with forensic techniques. Blood, hair, and tissue is difficult to contain." Morton put the scrap of skin in the bag and placed it on the counter. 

It didn't matter that his stomach was empty. Alex fought back a gag, the acid rose in his throat, and he looked wildly about for a place to throw up. Suddenly Morton was grabbing him, dragging him to what must be the pathology lab's private bathroom, and helping him bend over a toilet. 

In his private hell of vomiting bile, Alex was miserably aware that Morton was talking to him in a soothing voice, petting him, and rubbing his lower back all too near his ass. Alex wanted to stop him, but couldn't spare the energy. 

At last, Alex stopped vomiting. He pushed away from the toilet and heard it flush behind him. Morton led him to the sink so Alex could rinse his mouth and wash his face. 

"I think if you are going to pass this class, you will need my very personal help," Morton said. 

Somehow they ended up in the pathology office. Alex heard the door shut behind him as he slumped down onto the couch where Morton directed him. 

"A sensitive young man like you needs guidance," Morton said, his arm around Alex's waist. "Unlike Dr. Scully, I have power. I know how to work with authority. I could be an asset to your career, Agent Krycek or may I call you Alex?" 

"Doctor Morton, I don't know what you have in mind," Alex said. "Why don't I leave before this becomes a problem?" 

Scrambling up like a frightened virgin, Alex leapt for the door only to find it was locked and took a key to unlock it. Alex kept his hand on the knob and faced Morton. He said, "I don't want to be late for my next class." 

"I know there is a twenty minute break between pathology and the next class," Morton said, a smirk on his face. 

"You know I score pretty high in ethics class too," Alex said. "High enough to know that you could be in big trouble for what you are trying to do." 

"I bet if I had a certain friend check out your college career, he might find evidence of an interesting social life," Morton said. "I want to be your friend, Agent Krycek. Your mentor." 

The knock on Morton's door sounded like salvation. Alex yelled, "Dr. Morton, the door seems to be jammed and someone is here to see you." 

The look on Morton's face wasn't pretty, but he scrambled to open the door. AD Skinner stood there as Alex rushed past, saying a hasty, "Excuse me, Sir. I don't want to be late for class." 

Skinner looked puzzled and Alex knew his face must have shown his agitation as the AD also looked concerned for him. 

Alex heard Skinner say, "Agent Krycek, meet with me later about those private boxing lessons." 

Alex called back, "Yes, sir, thank you, Sir." 

Behind him, Alex heard, "Doctor Morton, I wanted to have a minute to talk about the field trip tomorrow." 

"Yes, of course, we had an incident in lab today. Agent Krycek was discommoded and I thought it best to allow him to regain his composure before sending him off to the rest of his day." 

"Of course," Skinner said and then the door shut behind them. 

Oh God damn it! Alex was sure he had been careful. He knew he was destined to be an FBI agent and had picked his partners carefully. Although he hit some bars and clubs, they were the discreet type of places, where people had good reason not to be outed, attended. 

"Alex? Alex?" Murphy said, "What's wrong? You look as if you saw a ghost. Did Morton yell at you?" 

"I wish he had," Alex said. He didn't want to tell Murphy. He didn't want to drag her down with him if he couldn't handle this situation. 

Although he needed help, Alex realized. He shook his head and said, "Forget about it, Murphy. I'm going to pass that class no matter what. Come on. We better get shaking or we will be late. Thanks for waiting though. You're a good friend." 

Somehow, AD Skinner's look of concern stuck with Alex. He wished he could talk to him about Morton, but if he did, that might involve a discussion as to why Morton was coming onto him. If Walter Skinner asked him directly, Alex wasn't sure if he could lie about his sexuality. 

This was one fucked up day and it wasn't even afternoon. 

* * *

Walter entered the Chain of Evidence class and found himself involuntarily seeking out Krycek. He quickly found Krycek in his usual seat next to Murphy, both of them huddled in a private conversation. Krycek's color was still a little pale, and Walter wondered for the second time why he had been in Morton's office with the door locked. 

Morton didn't fool him. When Walter had knocked and then tried the knob and found the door locked, his gut told him something was up. He heard voices and recognized Krycek's immediately. After Krycek had hurried off, Walter had offered Morton an out by suggesting the door was stuck. It wasn't stuck. It was locked. Impropriety versus privacy. They all respected each other's private offices and would never think to walk in without knocking. So Walter was still gathering evidence to why Morton had felt it was necessary to lock the door while meeting a student. And why Krycek. 

He cleared his throat and watched Krycek and Murphy's heads pop up. The angle of Murphy's arm disappearing under her desk suggested she was either holding Krycek's hand or had her hand on his knee. Walter felt a sting of jealousy. He wasn't sure why the young cadet was bringing out his protective instinct all the sudden. It was more than the encounter with Morton earlier. 

The kid still looked a little shaken although he immediately focused all his attention on Walter. Walter felt the tingle in his stomach that he had started to associate solely with Krycek's presence. He pushed hard down on those feelings and concentrated on his lecture. 

"Following up your work in the lab this morning, we will start to discuss the importance of gathering evidence out in the field and the proper methods to do so." 

One of the clones, Walter tried to remember his name, raised his hand. 

"Yes, Agent Webber?" 

"Sir, I understand the need for pathology and knowing what evidence to look for, but gathering and analyzing, isn't that what crime scene specialists are for?" 

"Agent Webber, how would you describe your duties as a trained FBI agent?" 

Webber opened his mouth to speak but promptly closed it at Walter's stern look. "And Agent Webber, I don't want you to quote me chapter and verse what the text books say. I want your personal views on what procedures you will be performing when you graduate." 

The cadet opened and closed his mouth trying to gather a reasonable response. Giving up, he dropped his eyes and slunk down in his seat. 

"There will be times in your career when you will be in a remote location and waiting for the 'specialists' to arrive is not a luxury. Weather conditions change. Storms may come up unexpectedly. As Special Agents, you will have to be able to secure a crime scene under the harshest conditions. A well rounded investigator can perform all duties required, not just the ones you deem necessary. You should strive to be an expert in all fields of investigation." 

Walter continued his lecture, fielding sometimes annoying questions that didn't detract from the overall pleasure he took from the progress the students were showing. He glanced at his watch and decided to end the class a little early. 

"We are lucky to have the opportunity to visit the Anthropology Research Facility during a short interim between scheduled classes. During our visit, you will show us what you have learned so far by gathering evidence from different mock crime scenes set up especially for this exercise." Walter knew Morton had already announced the reasons for the special field trip but he wanted to re-emphasize the important opportunity they were being granted. 

"Just like in the lab and once you are out in the field you will be examining real bodies. Identifying, collecting, preserving and analyzing evidence. The discovery and excavation of these human remains is important and you have to be very careful when you do it. You only get one chance to gather correct evidence when a body is found, so you better do it right," Walter continued. 

"When we arrived at the 'Body Farm', you will be separated into teams before being led out into the field. During this time, I expected you to take notes on your individual scenes, gather evidence you deem necessary and write a full report. Doctor Morton and I will supervise each of the teams and do a joint evaluation on your reports. This is as close to real as you will get until the end of the semester when you take your turn through Hogan's Alley." 

"We will be leaving promptly at 5 am. Any questions? Class dismissed." 

The students filed out talking excitedly about the field trip. Walter waited until most of the class had exited before approaching Krycek. 

"Agent Krycek?" 

"Yes, sir." 

"Our boxing lesson will be short tonight," he waved Krycek to silence when the younger man started to protest. "You need to get plenty of rest before tomorrow. I didn't want to cancel completely because it is important to follow-up on what you have learned so far. But I don't want you exhausted during the field trip." 

"Sir, honestly, I don't think it there will be a problem. We can continue the lesson as planned." 

"Meet me at eight, Agent Krycek." 

* * *

Arriving at the gym, Walter found Krycek already practicing with the speed bag. He watched, mesmerized by Krycek's footwork. The young man's whole body moved in one fluid motion even as he made short jabs at the bag. The back of his tee was soaked with sweat and the shiny gym shorts clung enticingly to his rounded butt and thighs. 

What am I thinking? But he couldn't take his eyes off of the way Krycek's long muscled legs moved and glistened. 

//Sodomy is an abomination in the eyes of the Lord// 

Walter felt as if he had just been slugged in the gut and barely had time to compose his features before Krycek turned around. 

"AD Skinner, sir." Alex was glad he had started his workout. His heavy breathing and high color could easily be from exertion. And a lot of it was. He had pounded away at the speed bag, imagining it was Morton's face. He had worked too hard to let that man ruin his career. 

Someone else that could ruin his career had stood behind him and watched his workout. Alex had always had a sixth sense that told him when he was being watched or no longer alone. When it had kicked in moments before, he was sure it was AD Skinner. Unlike when the smoking man was around or when Morton was close and Alex's senses shouted 'danger', whenever he sensed Skinner's presence he felt a longing in the pit of his stomach. 

Alex had never felt obsession before, but he was quickly becoming acquainted with it. Thoughts of his career were slowly taking a back seat to his thoughts of his now favorite instructor. It wasn't just the powerful attractive body. Alex's senses told him he had something to give the older man. Something special. And maybe he would get something in return. 

* * *

The three acre wooded area was hidden from public view by a nine-foot wooden privacy fence ringed by a razor wire-topped chain link fence. Even from the parking lot, the smell of death hung heavy in the air from the summertime heat. The cadets lined up to receive their white sterile suits and boots. Each face somber and excited. 

Krycek glanced over at Murphy. Her eyes were bright with suspicious wetness but her face was tight with determination. 

"Are you okay, Murph?" he whispered. Murphy gave him a small wan smile. 

"Yeah, it's just. You know. What about you kiddo?" 

Alex reached down into the pocket of his slacks beneath the suit and produced a small container of menthol. Murphy grinned. 

"No one could ever accuse you of not learning. But Alex, these bodies could be at any stage of decay. Are sure it isn't just the smell? I imagine we will be finding some pretty grisly stuff." 

Before Alex could answer, Morton started calling out names, assigning everyone to their perspective teams. Murphy felt a shudder run through her when Morton purposely separated her and Alex. When Morton added Alex to his team, she swore she felt Alex go rigid. AD Skinner had said he and Dr. Morton would be supervising all teams, not just one. 

Alex gave her a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, Murph. I can handle whatever he dishes out." 

"Are you sure? The man gives me the creeps just like that smoking bastard that keeps showing up." 

"I'm sure, besides, it's not like we will be alone out there," Alex answered, hoping he was right. If Morton was telling the truth, he could make or break Alex's career. 

Alex and his team approached the dilapidated shed. Working in a grid pattern the cadets started searching for signs of a corpse. There was no immediate sign of a body but the nearby vegetation on the side of the shed facing the trees was dead. Remembering that as a body decays, volatile fatty acids are released and absorbed in the soil, Alex knelt down and began taking soil samples. Carefully bagging and labeling each sample. 

Morton stood by and watched, never taking his eyes off of Alex. Alex could feel the fine hairs on the back of his neck tingle. It was unnerving enough to have someone watch over your shoulder, but with Morton, Alex felt the man undressing him with his eyes. 

Trying to ignore Morton and concentrate on his assignment, Alex carefully started to brush the topsoil away. Abraham joined him and together they slowly revealed the face of a middle-aged woman. Her hair had already started to slough off and from the way her body sagged and the dead vegetation she had probably been over weight. 

The area surrounding the head had been recently dug at. Probably a raccoon foraging for a fresh meal of maggots. Abraham silently pointed to the muddy animal tracks leading back into the woods further evidence of the body's visitor. Alex nodded his head and continued brushing the dirt from the cadaver's face. 

"Hey, we've got eggs in a nose over here if anyone wants to see,'' Nixon, one of the clones called out after he peered down at another dead woman. 

Abraham put his hand over his masked covered mouth as a fly buzzed around and crawled up the woman's nostril. Alex looked away. No matter how hard he tried he couldn't depersonalize the body. This had been someone's daughter, perhaps a mother. 

Morton hovered in behind Alex and put a steadying hand on his shoulder. Alex wanted nothing more than to yank his shoulder from the man's grip, but he didn't want to cause a scene or draw unwanted attention to the matter. 

Alex held himself steady until Nixon started scraping a sample of the larvae into an evidence bag. Alex bolted to his feet and stumbled over to the edge of the woods. Abraham wasn't far from him, doing his own gagging and heaving. But it wasn't Abraham that Morton reached out to steady. 

Sliding a seemingly supportive arm around Alex's waist, Morton's hand snaked suspiciously close to Alex's crotch. When Abraham gave up the fight and started vomiting, Alex felt his body involuntarily mimic Abraham's by hunching further over, bringing Morton's hand directly onto his groin. Morton wasted no time and started rubbing his hand roughly against him. 

"What's going on here?" The voice of AD Skinner was a welcome sound to Alex's ears, and Morton immediately stepped back. 

"Just a couple of our new agents getting a little light headed." Morton hastened to explain. Turning to the slightly pale Krycek and Abraham, he asked, "Are you two able to continue or do I need to escort you outside?" 

Both cadets shook their heads. Walter watched as they wiped their mouths and tried to regain their composure. He narrowed his eyes at Morton. He hadn't much cared for the scene he walked up on. Morton was standing too close to Krycek. Under normal circumstances, Walter wouldn't have minded, but after the events yesterday, he found himself watching Morton's every move. 

The students went back to their assignments without another word. Walter decided it might be best to keep a bit of distance between Morton and Krycek for the time being. 

"Doctor Morton. Webber's team has found a body in the pit on the southside with no outward evidence of fish activity." Walter told Morton, knowing the man would want to see the corpse that had not yet succumbed the feeding of fish and other aquatic life. The body would be bloated and probably beyond recognition if much time had passed since the researchers had tied a cinderblock to it's ankle and dropped it in the pond. Morton's dark eyes gleamed and Walter shuddered. It was one thing to be fascinated with the study and research, it was another to delight in the way someone had died. Morton was an extremely morbid man in Walter's opinion, but he didn't hesitated to use that to distract him from lurking around Krycek. 

* * *

Alex stepped from the hot shower. He finally felt clean again and not just from the smell of death that surrounded him all afternoon. They had received their rooming assignments and he had rejoiced in being one of the few lucky ones to have gotten a room to himself. After dinner everyone had opted to retire and work on his or her notes in privacy. AD Skinner and Doctor Morton both had insisted they write their reports separately. 

Curling up on his bed with nothing more than a towel wrapped loosely at his waist, Alex glared at his small notebook lying on the nightstand. He wanted to put the day's events out of his mind but his career depended on him being able to handle filling out reports under pressure. All the facts were still fresh in his mind, so he might as well go over his notes and add what he might of missed writing down. 

Alex stretched out and flipped open his notes. He noticed right off the difference in his handwriting from when they arrived at the mock scene and after he lost it. I need to learn to control my reactions better, he admonished. It won't do me any good to become a Special Agent if I act like a wuss every time I see a dead body. 

The key sounded in the door startled Alex from his thoughts. He bolted out of bed and gripped the towel tight to his waist. 

"Agent Krycek. I'm glad to see you're still up. There seems to be a problem with our guest accommodations and have found ourselves short of rooms. So we are doubling up. You don't mind sharing a room, do you?" 

* * *

Walter strolled down the hall to his room. He had taken a brisk walk around campus to unwind and clear his mind. Just as he was putting the key in the door, movement down the hall caught his eye. Morton was stepping into Krycek's room. 

* * *

Even as his fingers continued to turn the key in the lock, Walter's subconscious began a rapid-fire replay of the various interactions he'd witnessed between Krycek and Morton. 

It was... inappropriate for Morton to enter Krycek's room. 

Not wrong. Simply... inappropriate. 

And none of his business. 

Definitely none of his business. 

Except... 

Well, except for the inappropriate way Morton seemed to be _continuously_ invading Krycek's personal space. 

No. 

His thoughts were ridiculous. Dr Morton was a much-respected member of the Quantico Staff. Even suspecting him of any wrong-doing was unthinkable. 

Yet the look on Krycek's face when he'd bolted out of Morton's office... 

And that incident at the edge of the woods. Maybe Krycek had looked sick as a dog, but had that _really_ necessitated Morton holding him around the waist like a swooning damsel in distress? Abraham had been equally ill, perhaps even more so, and Morton hadn't felt the need to physically comfort _him_. Why had Morton automatically gone to Krycek's aid? Was it, perhaps, because Abraham was a hulking ox of a man, while Krycek was cute as a collie pup? 

Walter shook his head furiously. He wasn't being fair to Morton. Studies had proven that, given a choice, people always chose to offer comfort to the most physically attractive person. It wasn't 'unnatural' to admit that Krycek was a particularly good looking man. It wasn't a 'sin' to concede his beauty. Man was made in the image of God, and appreciating a person's aesthetic beauty was no different than acknowledging the perfection of a rose. 

If _he_ could appreciate Krycek's looks in perfect innocence then surely Morton... 

'Innocent my ass,' a voice whispered in the back of his head. 'There's nothing 'innocent' about the way you...' 

"Shut up," he growled aloud, closing his eyes and taking a deep, steadying breath. 

'Maybe you're just projecting your own feelings. Assuming the worst of Morton because...' the insidious voice continued. 

Walter shook his head furiously. This had nothing to do with him, with his feelings, with the feelings he most _definitely_ didn't have! This was about the look he'd seen on Krycek's face whenever Morton was in his close vicinity. Rightly or wrongly, Krycek obviously was uncomfortable with Morton's behaviour and so that made it highly unlikely that Krycek would have willingly 'invited' Morton into his room. 

And so, although Walter's conscious mind still dismissed his suspicions as 'unthinkable', he still found himself turning around, walking back up the corridor and knocking on Krycek's door. 

"Come in," Krycek called, his voice somewhere between a high-pitched squeak and a gasp of relief. 

Walter pushed the door open and his eyes widened. It took all his self-control not to stride across the room, take Morton by the throat and give Krycek a practical demonstration of his boxing skills. 

Morton had an almost naked Krycek trapped against the far wall of the room. The Doctor wasn't actually 'touching' Krycek, but he was standing well within Krycek's personal space, using a bed and his body to block Krycek's escape. 

Krycek's left hand was frantically clasping a small towel around his waist that barely covered his modesty. He was breathing as heavily as though he'd just run a dozen laps and his eyes were as wide and terrified as those of a rabbit unexpectedly run to ground by a wolf. 

His obvious fear was like a red-flag to all of Walter's bullish protective instincts. In that moment, any doubts he still retained over Morton's motives fled completely. This was no innocent 'talk' he'd interrupted. This was no attempt by Morton to assure himself that Krycek had recovered from his earlier shock out on the field. This was the raid of a sly fox on a seemingly defenseless chicken-coop. 

And yet, somehow, it wasn't Krycek's _fear_ that was the most prevalent emotion in the room. 

Krycek's right hand was clenched into a white-knuckled fist and his whole body was trembling with as much fury as terror. 

He _was_ beautiful. Like Michaelangelo's David. Slim and sleek, yet with the defined musculature of a warrior. As proud as that classic vision of male perfection. And as desperately vulnerable. 

In a split-second, Walter realized he'd entered the room just in time to prevent Krycek throwing his career at the FBI away. Regardless of provocation - and from what he could see, Morton was giving Krycek more than sufficient reason to raise that fist in anger - a cadet who struck an instructor was a cadet who'd be taking the next bus home. Besides, even he himself couldn't stand witness for Krycek. Morton wasn't actually 'doing' anything, except standing a little too closely to his victim. 

Yet Walter had no doubt that 'victim' was exactly what Krycek was in this scenario. A victim in a lose/lose scenario. Resisting Morton's advances physically would get him thrown out of the Bureau, but even 'acknowledging' Morton's intentions could be as potentially disastrous to Krycek's career. Since neither he nor Krycek could actually 'prove' what Morton was trying to do, neither of them could report Morton's inappropriate behavior to the authorities. 

The only possible way for Krycek to escape the trap Morton had laid for him was by pretending ignorance of Morton's intentions. And that would only work if he too pretended to be unaware of what was happening. 

"Dr. Morton?" Walter said, raising an eyebrow curiously, as though he were surprised to find him in Krycek's room. 

"Mix up with the rooms," Morton replied smoothly, stepping back out of Krycek's personal space and turning to face Walter. "Some damn pencil-pusher allotted my accommodations to someone else. I was just telling Mr. Krycek here how fortunate it is that there's a spare bed in his room, otherwise I'd probably have to sleep in the back of my car tonight." 

"Absolutely out of the question," Walter snapped, not even pretending to smile at Morton's lame attempt at humor. 

"What?" Morton demanded, his pleasant expression slipping into a suspicious scowl. 

Walter smirked internally, enjoying Morton's brief discomfiture, and then he continued smoothly, "It's completely outrageous that a man of your importance should have to share a room with a cadet. I'm surprised you're willing to put up with such shoddy treatment, Dr. Morton. Especially considering your sacrifice in filling in for Doctor Scully at such short notice. I assure you that _she_ wouldn't put up with being forced to share accommodations like this." 

Obvious relief flooded Morton's weasel-like features, as he clearly decided that Walter had bought his flimsy story. 

"Well, it's only a couple of nights. I'm sure I can put up..." 

"I refuse to hear of it," Walter interrupted, shaking his head firmly. "I insist you take _my_ room, Dr. Morton. It's far more suited for a man in your position." 

Morton's eyes narrowed with anger, but he attempted to keep an ingratiating smile on his face as he replied. "Really, Mr. Skinner. It's no problem at all and I wouldn't dream of asking an Assistant Director to give up his room to me. Agent Krycek and I will be..." 

"Absolutely not," Walter interrupted smoothly, throwing an arm around Morton's shoulder and 'guiding' him toward the door. He was strong enough that Morton couldn't break free of his 'friendly' gesture without a struggle. "A scientist such as yourself has far more need of privacy than I do. You're accustomed to quiet reflection, not the excited chatter of cadets." 

As they reached the doorway, a furious Morton gave one last-ditch attempt at resistance. 

"But I don't see why you..." 

"I was a marine," Walter chuckled. "I can sleep in a fox-hole in the middle of mortar-fire. I'll be perfectly fine, Doctor. I insist." 

He escorted Morton to his room, retrieved his few belongings and left the quietly fuming Doctor alone. 

Although he'd only been gone a few minutes, Krycek had taken the opportunity to exchange his towel for jogging bottoms and a loose tee-shirt. 

Walter smiled at him apologetically. "I hope you don't mind me volunteering to share your room." 

Krycek shook his head mutely. 

"Are you sure? It's not too late for me to go down to the front desk and see whether there's anything else available. Though, I'm sure Dr Morton already did that," he continued, a little insincerely. It wasn't that he doubted Morton's story about there being no other rooms available, but that he was damned sure the 'mix-up' had been less by accident than by design. 

Something dark flickered in Krycek's eyes at his comment, but the smile he offered was genuine enough that Water was sure the younger man's ire was directed at Morton rather than himself. 

"If...if you want to talk to me about anything," Walter offered cautiously. "If there's anything wrong..." 

A slight tremor ran through Krycek's body and, for a moment, his intense green eyes softened, lids falling until his lashes were dark smudges on his rosy cheeks. But then he shrugged and turned away, as he muttered, "Nothing, Sir. Everything's fine. If you don't mind, I was just about to take a shower when Dr Morton arrived." 

"Of course," Skinner agreed, despite Krycek's still wet hair giving the obvious lie to his comment. If he were in Kryeck's shoes, he too would want a damned long shower after being in such close proximity to a slime-ball like Morton. 

'A _perverted_ slime-ball,' his mother's voice echoed in his mind. 

Skinner shuddered guiltily as he suddenly realized that during the whole sordid encounter it had never once occurred to him that Morton's advances to Krycek were 'perverted'. 

Wrong, definitely. Unprofessional, certainly. Anyone attempting to use a position of authority to extort sexual favors was, beyond doubt, conscienceless scum. What Morton had attempted was little short of rape. 

Walter had been infuriated, outraged and offended by Morton's behavior. 

And, yet, not once had it occurred to him, until after Krycek had closed himself in the bathroom, that he should have perceived Morton's homosexual attraction to Krycek as the true evil being perpetuated in that room. 

* * *

Morton sat on the bed that had originally been meant for Skinner seething with rage. The little scene between him and the Assistant Director had left him feeling both humiliated and infuriated. The way that over muscled balding oaf had escorted him out of Krycek's room and into this one... It was unacceptable, absolutely unacceptable. 

Swallowing back his rage, Morton considered placing a call, perhaps it was time to show this Walter Skinner exactly what was what in the greater scheme of things. Time to show him exactly who was in charge. His hand was actually reaching out for the phone sitting on the little bedside table beside him, when he changed his mind. Perhaps airing his grievances to the Smoker might not end up being such a great idea after all, especially since he was taking such an interest in the handsome young cadet. And there might be yet another way to deal with that insufferable Assistant Director. With that thought to console him, Morton smiled. Oh yes, a certain AD was certainly going to be sorry that he had crossed him. 

* * *

By the time Krycek had emerged from the bathroom, Skinner had taken the time to put his few belongings away. Being a naturally neat and well ordered man, Skinner liked to have things in their place. 

//After all, cleanliness is next to godliness.// 

With a frown, Skinner quickly pushed the thought away. His mother had always harped on about how important it was to be neat. "For God frowns on those who cannot be bothered to pick up after themselves. God loves those that keep His Word close to their hearts and their socks neatly in the drawers." 

As a teen, Skinner had very much doubted this but there was no sense in trying to argue with his mother. She was too damned quick to grab the strap or wooden spoon or whatever else would have been handy at the time, and he for one actually liked keeping some skin on his ass. 

"Umm...it's all yours now." 

"What?" Skinner looked up distractedly. "I'm sorry?" 

Krycek gestured towards the bathroom with the towel he was holding. "The bathroom, I'm finished in there. I thought you might like to take a shower or..." Suddenly Krycek blushed and quickly adverted his gaze. Skinner could see that he was embarrassed now. 

"Oh, yes...of course. Thank you Agent Krycek." 

"Alex." Krycek muttered. 

"Beg your pardon?" Skinner asked. Krycek looked up at him, a dark flicker appearing briefly in his eyes. 

"Uh, well if we are going to be sharing a room, you can call me by my first name if you..." Suddenly his words trailed off and Skinner noticed that he was blushing even harder. Taking pity on him, Skinner replied. 

"Thank you Agent Krycek, but I feel that it would be more appropriate to keep things a little more formal between us. Don't you?" // Especially after that little incident with Morton earlier.// He added silently. 

"Uh, yes sir...of course. I'm sorry, I didn't mean..." Krycek was looking flustered now and Skinner mentally kicked himself. He was just trying to be friendly that was all. Nothing more, and of course he was still obviously rattled by what had happened earlier. 

"I'll go grab my shower now." Skinner said hurriedly. "Best we get an early night, we have a long day ahead of us tomorrow." 

"Yeah, sure." Krycek muttered, not looking at him. Grabbing his toilet kit, Skinner headed into the still steamy bathroom. Stripping off his clothes, he turned the shower on, hoping that there would still be some hot water left. As it was, there was plenty and with a sigh of relief, he stepped under the stinging spray. 

Reaching out, Skinner grabbed the bar of soap that he had packed and taken into the shower stall with him. He hated those tiny little soaps that hotels provided, they were so small you could never get a proper grip on them. Quickly he started lathering himself, letting the hot water rinse the bubbles off when his mind returned to that ugly little scene between Morton and Krycek. 

It was obvious that the good doctor's intentions towards the vulnerable young cadet was less than honorable. Somehow he was going to have to protect Krycek from him. But he knew that was going to be difficult. While Morton was filling in for Scully, he and Krycek were going to keep coming into contact with each other and Skinner knew that he was not always going to be there to intervene. Of course reporting Morton's behavior was out of the question, first because Morton had not really been doing anything. Sure, he had been standing too close to Krycek, invading his personal space and obviously using his position of authority to try and coerce him. But reporting it and proving it were two different things altogether. No if Skinner was to be able to protect the young cadet, then he was going to have to do it on his own. 

//And just why are you so protective Walter?// That nasty little voice was back again. //Would it be because you desire Alex Krycek? That you want him yourself?// 

The thought hit him full force and stopped, his eyes widening as he clutched the now forgotten bar of soap in his hand, a soft moan escaping his lips. 

//Face it Walter, you do desire him don't you. His soft lips, those gorgeous green eyes. That incredible ass...// 

Suddenly Skinner looked down and was disconcerted to find his penis jutting out, almost touching the tiled wall of the shower stall in front of him. With a trembling hand, Skinner reached out grabbing the tap and giving it an almost savage twist, cutting the hot water off. Freezing cold water hit him like a shock causing him to gasp aloud but at least it had finally shut that insidious little voice up, and had managed to wilt his erection at the same time. 

Grabbing a towel, he dried himself, rubbing with a ferocity that left his skin reddened in patches. Then pulling on a pair of gray sweat pants and t- shirt he had taken in with him, he walked back out into the room. 

Krycek was sitting on his bed, his notebook open in front of him but his eyes were fixed on the wall opposite. It was clear that the younger man was still recovering from the encounter with Dr Morton. 

"Are you all right Agent Krycek?" Skinner asked gently as he put his toilet kit away. 

Krycek glanced up at him, a tentative smile softening his features. The troubled look fading from his eyes. 

"Oh, uh...yes sir," he replied. "I'm fine. Thank you. And, uh, sir..." 

"Yes Krycek?" Skinner asked. 

"Thank you for...well thanks...I mean for helping me. Earlier I mean." Krycek's face flushed as he spoke. 

"No problem." Skinner told him warmly. "Now I think it might be best if we get some sleep. We have an early start tomorrow." 

"Another day at the Body Farm." Krycek remarked, his voice dry. Leaning forward, he reached over to put the notebook back on the bedside table. The movement caused the back of his shirt to ride up, revealing an expanse of smooth unblemished, honey-colored skin. 

Skinner felt his mouth go dry as he watched the muscles move and flex with Krycek's movements. Completely unaware of the effect he was having on the other man, Krycek turned towards him again. 

"Good night, sir." 

"Uh, good night, agent." Skinner managed to get out. 

Once in bed, with the lights safely out, Skinner lay on his back, listening to the Krycek's slow steady breathing beside him. And with the image of brilliant green eyes and thick sable black hair dancing in front of him, Skinner knew that any sleep for him that night would be out of the question. 

* * *

The second day at the Body Farm was a little better than the first. Krycek and Abraham were using special brushes to carefully remove the layers of dirt from the face of what had once been a young man. Skinner watched them both, noting that Abraham looked a little better than what he did yesterday. His face still had a dusky appearance and his mouth was pulled down slightly in a grimace of distaste but at least he was no longer vomiting. That's a good sign, Skinner thought to himself dryly. 

Krycek seemed to be doing marginally better as well, despite the paleness of his face and the grim set to his mouth. He was carefully removing and bagging the samples, taking care to tag everything. Satisfied that the two agents were all right, he moved off to check on Nixon and the others. They were in the middle of excavating the corpse of an elderly woman that had been found underneath an oak tree. 

As he walked away, he did not notice Morton as he moved closer to the grid where Abraham and Krycek were kneeling. 

"And how is everything progressing, gentlemen?" He asked smoothly, his eyes fixed on the back of Krycek's neck. 

Krycek had been so engrossed in his work that he had not heard the doctor approach. Startled, he looked up, his stomach clenching with a mixture of dislike and anger as he looked up into Morton's bland face. 

"Everything is fine," he replied, his voice cold. Morton regarded him for a moment, then smiled. 

"I see that you are feeling a little better today, Agent Krycek." 

"Yes...thank you sir," Krycek's teeth had begun to grit. Memories of the night before suddenly flashed across his mind and his hand tightened around the brush he was holding. Sensing that something was wrong, Abraham straightened up, his gaze swiveling between Krycek and Morton. He could feel the tension coming off the younger man in waves now. 

Morton nodded, an insincere smile plastered to his face. "That's good, very good indeed. Of course if you are feeling a little ill, it is quite permissible for you to take a break. I am sure that Agent Abraham is quite capable of finishing..." 

"I assure you, Dr Morton, I'm fine," Krycek replied. "I am perfectly capable of finishing up here." 

Hearing the coldness in the cadet's voice, Morton stiffened slightly. "I do not want you to continue if you are not feeling up to it, Agent Krycek. After all, the well-being of all my students is of utmost importance and if I feel that one them is in danger of becoming ill, then it is my duty to..." 

"Leave them alone and let them get on with their work, Dr Morton." 

The three men turned at the sound of the new voice. Skinner was standing behind Morton now, an unreadable expression on his face. 

"Ah, A.D. Skinner," Morton greeted him smoothly. "I was just explaining..." 

"Yes, I heard," Skinner interrupted him coolly. "I am sure that Agent Krycek is grateful for your concern but I think that both he and Agent Abraham are both doing quite well...under the circumstances." 

"I was concerned that Agent Krycek might not have quite recovered from yesterday," Morton replied, a flicker of annoyance crossing his features. Inwardly taking a deep breath, Skinner replied, careful to keep his own voice calm and even. 

"I think it's plain to see that both agents are fine and doing an admirable job." 

Stiffening, Morton snapped out. "I really think you should allow me to be the judge of that." 

"They are my students, Dr. Morton." 

"And mine as well, Mr. Skinner," Morton replied, his voice tightening. Both men were facing each other squarely now. Skinner's face had taken on a dangerously grim set while Morton's had become crimson with anger. 

"In my opinion, they are both fine," Skinner answered. He could feel his temper building up inside of him and it was taking every drop of will power that he had not to punch the good doctor's lights out. 

"Your opinion," Morton sneered. "Allow me to remind you, Mr. Skinner exactly who in is charge of this field trip." 

"And allow me to remind you of who is in charge of these cadets, Dr. Morton," Skinner gritted out, the warning clear in his tone. Suddenly he stopped and looked around. All activity had ceased now, the cadets had stopped working and were staring in their direction. Aware of the attention they were attracting, Skinner said, "I would like to have a word with you in private, Dr. Morton." 

Morton stared at his opponent for a moment, a flicker of something that might have been trepidation appearing briefly in his eyes. Than just as quickly as it had appeared, it was gone. 

"That might be a good idea, Mr. Skinner," he replied, then turning towards Krycek and Abraham, he spoke in clipped tones. 

"Perhaps. Return to what you were doing." 

It was clear to see that Morton was trying to give the impression that he was still in control of the situation and for a brief moment, Krycek was tempted to tell him to fuck off. Instead, he returned to the grim task at hand. 

//Let Skinner handle the prick.// He thought as he turned his attention back to the body lying half uncovered in its shallow grave. 

Turning abruptly, Skinner headed over towards a dilapidated old shed, Morton in tow. There was no one working near there today and he thought it the best place for a private conversation. 

"Now, what is this all about, Skinner," Morton snapped, then took a surprised step backwards as Skinner turned the full force of his anger on the other man. 

"I'll tell you what this is all about, Morton," he snarled, brown eyes spitting with rage. "I know what you are trying to do and I am telling you now that if this continues I will report you. Do you understand?" 

A look of outrage crossed Morton's features. "I have no idea what you are talking about," he spluttered. 

"Is that so?" Skinner said coldly. "Then tell me, _Doctor_ Morton, what was meaning of that little scene I walked in on last night?" 

"What do you mean, _Mister_ Skinner?" 

"You know damned well what I mean and I am warning you, if anything like that ever happens again I will see that you are thrown out of the Bureau. Is. That. Clear?" The pure danger oozing from each clipped word from Skinner's mouth demonstrated the power the man wielded, professionally and personally. 

"I would have a care of the kind of accusations you are throwing about, Mr. Skinner," Morton's tone was deadly now. "After all, careers have been ruined for far less." 

Skinner leaned forward, his eyes boring into Morton's with such intensity that made the other man take an involuntary step back. 

"Leave Agent Krycek alone." 

"Or what Mr. Skinner?" The sneer was back on Morton's face now, along with a light sheen of nervous sweat. 

Skinner simply answered with a particularly nasty little smile that made Morton swallow hard. Then seeing that his words had finally gotten through to the other man, Skinner turned and left him standing there. 

Watching him go, Morton pulled a large white handkerchief from his coat pocket and mopped his face with it. 

//Skinner, you have just made the biggest mistake of your life.// Morton thought as he watched Skinner head back the way he came. //You can kiss your career good-bye.// 

* * *

Skinner knew he'd made an enemy. He wasn't sure why Alex Krycek was worth it; something deep inside just told him it was right. He couldn't stand by and let the boy be destroyed. 

He made sure to keep Alex in his sight for the rest of the day. He caught Morton watching the boy on more than one occasion. Each time he moved into Morton's line of sight. He was relieved when they finished for the day. 

The trip back was uneventful. Walter noticed that Alex and Murphy were sitting together leaving Morton no way to sit next to him. Walter worked on his evaluations in silence. He watched as the cadets headed toward their housing and Morton got into his car and drove away. Only then did he feel comfortable going home. 

He went through his normal routine that night before going to bed, his thoughts on Alex. Once he was in bed, he couldn't sleep. Finally, he got up and poured a drink. One vice he allowed himself, after all Jesus drank wine. After that, he was able to sleep. 

* * *

He was warm. Someone was caressing his chest. His nipples hardened under the talented fingers. Then he felt a warm wet tongue circle the hard nub. His back arched, seeking greater contact. A hand gripped his cock, working it slowly. A rough, sexy voice issued a demand. 

"Open your eyes. I want to see your eyes when you come for me." His eyes opened to see the face of an angel, an angel with green eyes. His climax caught him by surprise and he called out his lover's name. "Alex!" 

Skinner bolted upright in bed, his fist still wrapped around his dick as a last spurt of semen coated his hand. 

// Angel, hah! Devil more like. You're a sinner. God sees all. // 

"Leave me alone, can't you just leave me alone." 

Skinner got up from the bed and entered the bathroom. He didn't even bother with the lights. Taking a shower, he scrubbed hard at the flesh of his stomach to remove the semen that had landed there. He went back to bed and surprisingly, right back to sleep. 

* * *

In the cadet barracks, Alex was waking from a similar dream. Unlike Walter, he had no mother voice in his head to reprimand him. So, he merely stroked harder as he pictured a sweaty Walter bending down to kiss him. His method of clean up would have shocked Walter but it meant that Alex didn't need to leave his bed. 

He laid awake for a few minutes, remembering the way Skinner had come to his rescue over the weekend. His warm brown eyes as he asked if Alex were all right. Then there was the second rescue, not as dramatic in one way but far more in another. 

Morton had been red faced and practically had steam coming out of his ears after the talk with Skinner. He'd also stayed away from Alex the rest of the day. Alex wasn't sure why AD Skinner was looking out for him, but it gave him a warm feeling in his middle. Hugging his pillow, he rolled over and went back to sleep. 

* * *

Skinner made a point of going out to the track the next morning. He hoped to see Murphy and Krycek before they had to attend Morton's class. He was warming up when the two of them appeared. 

"Morning, AD Skinner. Are you getting ready to run or cooling down?" Murphy asked, cordially. 

"Good morning, Agents. I'm just warming up. I thought we might run together." 

"Sure, that'd be fine." Alex gave him a warm smile as he replied. 

The three of them continued their warm up and then Skinner set the pace of the run. The two changed stride smoothly whenever Skinner did. He ran long enough to give them all a good workout and then called a halt. As they cooled down, he came to a decision. 

"Agent Krycek, would you give me a few minutes with Agent Murphy?" 

"Of course, Sir." 

Krycek walked away slowly, wondering if maybe AD Skinner was going to hit on Murphy. He felt more than a little sad at that idea. Walter watched until Krycek was far enough away that he knew he wouldn't hear. He indicated the bleachers and Murphy took a seat. 

"How is going for you, Janice?" 

"Fine, Sir. Thank you for suggesting this. I think I'm going to enjoy working for the FBI." 

"That's good. I know you'll make a good agent." 

"You don't really want to talk about me, do you?" 

Walter chuckled, "See, I knew you belonged here." They shared a smile before he spoke again. 

"I know you pay attention to things. I just wonder if he's, Krycek that is, has he spoken to you about the smoking man, or his run in with Morton?" 

"I know that smoker seems to be around a lot. As for Morton...I'm not sure if..." 

"Janice, I'm concerned for the boy. I think Morton may have made advances toward him. That is not only unprofessional, but it can't be considered anything less than harassment." 

She looked into Walter's eyes and saw nothing but concern. "Morton cornered him in his office and wasn't going to let him out, until you knocked on the door. Then there was the hotel room thing. Alex is very uncomfortable with the way the man keeps touching him." 

"I thought it might be something like that." 

"You're quickly becoming his hero with all the rescuing you keep doing." 

"Janice, he has the makings of a great agent. I'd hate to see him lost." 

"He's very mature in some ways, nave in others. But he has wonderful instincts on who to stay away from." 

"That's good. But I suspect that Morton is connected to the smoker in some way. I want to ask you a favor." 

"You don't even need to do that. He's become like a younger brother. I'll keep my eye on him." 

"Let me know if there is any need for me to intercede again." 

"I'll do that." 

"Thank you. You'd better get along. I don't want to make you late." 

Walter sat for a long time after she jogged off. He wouldn't let this lamb go astray. 

// You want to sin with that boy. You aren't any better than Morton. // 

"You're dead, leave me alone." 

He rose to his feet and jogged toward the men's locker room to shower and dress. 

* * *

Morton kept his distance during class that day. He just needed to get something to use on the boy. He'd put one of the Consortium geeks on it; with any luck, he'd have something in a day or two. He wanted Krycek in his bed. He'd also asked for a dossier on Skinner, hoping to find a way to hurt the man. 

When Alex entered Skinner's classroom later that morning he was looking more relaxed. He watched Skinner as he asked the group questions concerning the trip to the Body Farm. 

Alex had asked Murphy what Skinner wanted to talk to her about. She'd given him a very abbreviated version of the conversation. Knowing Skinner felt he had promise, just solidified his determination to do well and avoid anyone who might ruin it for him. 

Part way though the class the back door opened silently and Spender watched as the class discussed the weekend. He looked at Krycek watching Skinner. Skinner seemed to be oblivious to the worship in the boy's eyes as he watched every move his instructor made. 

Interesting, maybe he could use that attraction against them both. Morton could become a problem. Spender knew Morton was having both of the men investigated without permission. He thought the man he'd put on the task would assume that it was with official approval. However, the men who worked for Spender told him everything. 

Spender backed out without being noticed. He moved quickly through the building and entered Morton's office to wait for him. Morton stiffened when he entered his office to find it filled with smoke and the man he didn't enjoy being around during the best of times waiting for him. 

"Mr. Spender, I didn't expect you." 

"You should have." 

"I don't know what you mean." 

"Did you really believe that you could have investigations started without my knowledge?" 

"Sir, I need more information on the boy. I've tried to talk to him privately, but he's very skittish." 

"Maybe he doesn't find you attractive. I didn't arrange for you to be here to get laid. You were sent to test the waters. Gain the boy's trust." 

"But, Sir..." 

"Enough! You weren't recruited for the sex assignments. Even if you had been, it wouldn't be to seduce Cadet Trainee Agents. He could be a very useful resource. We need operatives who can enter Russia and not attract notice. That is why he's been targeted. Don't make me need to speak of this to you again." 

"Yes, Sir." 

"I'm allowing the checks to be done. There might be something there that we could use against him in the future. But it won't be so that you can fuck him." 

"I understand..." 

Spender nodded as if he believed Morton's words. Leaving the office, he was on the phone before he reached his car. Within two hours, Morton's house had been bugged, his car was bugged and wired with a bomb, should that be needed, and that night his office was bugged as well. Spender didn't believe in leaving anything to chance. 

* * *

Walter sat at his desk and wrote out the last check for his bills, sealed it and the receipt in the envelope, put a stamp on it and set it aside to mail in the morning. He looked down at the paperweight on his desk, the marble and brass Marine Corps anchor and eagle. He was so good at that, being a Marine. He took his orders, made decisions he'd never made before, was truly on his own. 

He'd even made a close friend, one who he'd confessed all of his secrets to. After he was let out of the Marines with his purple heart, his friend, who'd been shipped off to another platoon, survived the war and went on to great things in the Marines. He was an intelligence officer, if Walter recalled correctly. Highest level of security clearance, more than Walter himself. The perfect solution to his problem. 

Walter dialed the number from memory and waited two rings for the secretary to answer then put his call directly through. 

"Colonel O'Neill speaking." 

"Mauga?" 

"Half-Pint! You old bastard! How are ya?" 

Walter and Mauga O'Neill had become fast friends. The huge man, making Walter look like a dwarf, was half Samoan, half Irish and all Texas. He'd told Walter he was named appropriate as his first name meant 'mountain' in Samoan. 

"I'm OK. Same old same old." 

"No ladies in your life, eh?" Mauga was never one to beat around the bush. 

"No, not since Sharon left me, no." 

"How is that sweet lady? Boy, you sure did save her from that crazy family of hers. Why didn't you let her save you?" Mauga was honest to a fault. He knew about how Sharon had strict parents like Walter did. Her mother taught her well to save herself for her wedding. Sharon was an amazing woman, patient, encouraging, the total embodiment of an angel. She tried to help Walter, tried to show him that a married couple making love wasn't sinning, but how God truly intended it. 

Walter, however, could never shake off his mother's voice in his head telling him how the sins of the flesh extended beyond the ring on his finger. //If you lose your purity in God's eyes, you will surely go to Hell, Walter. Look at what happened to me. I indulged my beautiful husband, let him have all he wanted of me, of life, and he's in the ground now. I took for granted that he was there, not knowing he was a gift from God. You must learn from my mistakes, Walter. Keep pure in your love of God, and your love of your wife.// 

"Mauga, I...that's not why I called you." 

"You need my help, don't you? What's new, Half-Pint?" 

"Mauga, stop calling me that. I'm too old..." 

"Bullshit. If I stood next to you, you'd still be my little half-pint brother, ready to shit when the mortars started to drop. I took care of you then, I'll always be here for you, Half-Pint." 

Walter took a deep breath, steadying his nerves. It always upset him to talk about Vietnam, how he acted there and how he reacted there. Oh, no, he never indulged in the sins of the flesh in the plethora of brothels, catering to any and all tastes. You could buy a woman or two, or a boy, or two, or anywhere in between. He'd listened to many buddies complain about the "itch on my balls" for weeks. He wasn't about to finally give up on his commitment to the Lord and have something to show for it. 

Mauga had actually helped him find his way away from that temptation, and away from the nightmares that plagued him. Explaining that Medicine Men for millennia had been using the herb to help them, help others, and it would help Walter, too. Mauga babysat Walter when he imbibed too much, held his head when he puked, and listened to his confession when he babbled on about the Wrath of God reigning down upon him. Mauga was one of the few people Walter felt pure love and trust for. 

"I need some information, Mauga. On another FBI agent. He's a doctor and an instructor. Doctor Percival Morton. Anything you can find." Walter looked down at his hand that wouldn't stop shaking. 

"That's it? Awww, Half-Pint, that's not a favor. I thought this would be a big deal. Meet me at Mitch's tomorrow at eight. You're buying." Mitch's was a biker roadhouse in Virginia near the Langley headquarters of the CIA, where Mauga worked. Mitch was a little guy with a huge wife. He rode on the back of her bike. What kept folks coming back was the food. Mitch made authentic cheese steaks, huge steak fries and poured beer by the pitcher only. Abundance was the main theme in that place. 

"Mitch's tomorrow at eight, I'll be at our table." Walter hung up the phone and breathed a sigh of relief. He went to bed that night easily, knowing that the wheels were in motion to a whole new chapter in his life. 

* * *

The next day, Walter asked Alex to stay after class to speak with him. Alex felt his stomach flip-flop in his body. He fought the urge to flirt outrageously like a queen, but he knew more was on the line than ever before. Flirting was out of the question. 

"Agent Krycek, I wanted to tell you that your skills in boxing have greatly improved. You've really grasped the concepts of cue and telegraphing. Seeing your opponents move coming so that you can properly block them is an excellent skill to master. However, you will need some work on your hand-to-hand combat skills." 

"Ah, yes, sir. I know, I can't help it." Alex could feel the blush rising in his cheeks. 

"Let me guess. You were the short kid most of your life, until maybe, junior year of high school, you shot up like a bean sprout. And your good looks kept the bigger boys on your case most of the time." 

"How...I mean..." Alex looked up at Walter and saw a kindred spirit in the big, older man. 

"You learned to fight early, and dirty. City kid, aren't you?" The softness of Walter's face brought a familiar burn to Alex's eyes and he fought hard not to cry. 

"Yeah, from New York. Brighton Beach in Brooklyn. Fought hard to drop the accent." 

"You've done quite well, young man. But this isn't the city, and no one here is brawling in a gang fight. You need to learn to take down an assailant to control him, not hurt him. You're arresting a criminal, not fighting for turf. Am I clear?" 

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir." Alex sighed in relief. He thought it would be some verbal thrashing he would get. As it was, it was a gentle correction. "Sir, what do you suggest I do? I mean, you're record is exemplary. Arrests without drawing your weapon. Never a hint of mistreatment of any suspects. What do you suggest I should do?" 

//Please, oh please, let him offer to tutor me. The boxing was amazing. I want to get even closer than that. Please, oh Christ, please, I think I'll burst!// 

"I have some free time. I can probably help you." 

//Yes! Oh, yes, yes yes yes!!!// 

"That'd be great. Tonight?" Alex looked hopefully, but tried not to look too hopeful. As soon as Walter spoke, his face fell. 

"I'm sorry, Agent Krycek. I have a very important meeting tonight and I can't reschedule. How does tomorrow sound?" 

Tomorrow was going to be a big get together with the remaining cadets. Every class thinned out as the semester made its way through. His orientation instructor told Alex that sometimes, by the midway eighth week, half the cadets were gone. He'd once seen only two cadets of a class of twenty make it all the way to graduation. Alex was determined to make it all the way through if he had to die, or kill, to do it. 

"Sounds great, I look forward to it!" 

"Excellent. OK, you'd better get to your next lecture." 

Alex didn't want to show his disappointment so he just smiled again and shook Skinner's proffered hand. He walked out of the room, not on the faded multi-hued gray carpet, but on silvery clouds of hope. 

* * *

Walter walked into Mitch's Roadhouse and wasn't surprised when no one even turned to look at him. It was dark and smoky, jukebox droning John Lee Hooker in the background. One thing about Mitch, he never updated or allowed anything but pure blues in his jukebox, whether it be Albert Collins, Muddy Waters or Son Seals. All blues, all the time. Walter mourned a bit when Mitch upgraded from records to CDs, but it was inevitable. It only meant more music, since a CD held an entire album, as opposed to the single song on a record. 

Walter walked to the back where the table he usually sat with Mauga was located. It was empty with it's reserved sign on it. It was nice to be wearing jeans, his favorite cowboy boots and just a denim shirt. He toyed with the idea of tying a bandana on his head, but he didn't own a motorcycle. Getting out of the Lincoln like that, he'd look ridiculous. 

Without asking, Mitch brought over a pitcher of beer and two mugs. He would also prepare two plates for he and Mauga when the big man arrived. It wasn't long. Mauga, similarly dressed to Walter, ambled over and sat in the chair. The man was still the same height, well over six and a half feet, and probably over three hundred pounds of pure muscle. He still had the neat shock of curly red hair, well gelled into place as per the Marine code. It set off his caf-au-lait-colored skin somewhat oddly, but fitting. 

"Half-Pint, you look good." 

"Same to you, Mau. How's Diana and the boys?" Walter filled the two mugs on the table. 

"They're good. You should visit. You're not that far, hour's drive, stay the night." 

"So, what did you find out?" Walter asked, directing the subject change. 

"Oh, that. Well," Mauga started, pulling a thick file from his messenger bag and settling his reading glasses on his wide nose. He laid it on the table and started flipping pages. "This is your copy. This man, Percival Morton, bad juju, fuck not with him. Unless you're prepared to go balls to the wall. He's a freak." 

"English, I don't speak Samoan." Walter raised the sandwich to his mouth and relished the heaps of onions and sharp Swiss cheese. 

Mauga chuckled at his friend. Mauga was the only person Walter felt comfortable around, letting down his protective shield of propriety. "OK. Back about five years ago, there was a snafu with a cadet. He and this cadet were dating on the sly. We don't know if it was consensual or not." 

"What do you mean?" 

"I mean, was Morton threatening the kid for a place in the bureau? I'm trying to get the sealed records. Kid was found dead in a motel room. He was strangled." 

"Morton strangled him?" 

"We don't know. The official M.E.'s report says auto-erotic asphyxiation. The kid's prints, as well as the maid and a hundred other people's were found in the room. But not Percy's. They interviewed a bunch of cadets who all said that the kid, who's name is sealed - I can get it later, he changed after they think he started seeing Percy." 

"Poor bastard's really called Percy? No middle name to call him? No wonder he's so uptight." Walter took a deep swallow of beer. 

"Yeah, sad shit. This kid, he withdrew, got all quiet, shy and stuff. Stopped showering in the communal with the other cadets. I figure hiding bruises or worse. Another thing that bothered me. Tracked Morton's American Express card. He buys weird stuff from a website that sells food and contraptions for worms, bugs and stuff like that. I'm trying to see if I can get a listing of sites he surfs through his ISP. The servers all log user account cookies." 

Walter nodded as if he understood the specific language, but the gist he got was, the guy surfs the internet to freaky sites. "So, what are you coming up with?" 

"Like I said, bad juju. This guy with this kid, the cover up slammed down so fast, I know there were hands in it that we don't speak about. So, talk to me, Half-Pint. Why are we investigating this man? He's obviously gay. You're...what are you?" 

Walter looked up at the big man, who'd taken the reading glasses from his face to reveal his stormy dark blue eyes. It was terrifying how much of his Irish mother showed in him. "Mau, you've never directly asked me that? Or anything about..." 

"About the fact that you're a forty-four-year-old virgin? No, you offered that to me back in 'Nam. What I'm offering to you is a place to lay out why I'm breaking the law. It's another cadet, isn't it? Morton wants him...and so do you." 

Walter poured another mug of beer for himself and took a long draught. "Mau, this is old...deep...she used to..." 

"She's dead, Walter. I know she loved you. I know you loved her. But she's fucking dead. You hear her in your head, as your conscience. Stop it. I known you a lot of years..." 

"You were one of the reasons I made it out of that Saigon hospital and on my way home to heal." Walter allowed a bit of water to well up in his eyes and blinked it away quickly. 

"If you wanna be with boys, consenting adults that is, then I'm all for it. If God made you, he made you like you are, queer as a three dollar bill and that's fine by me. I'm not gonna bar you from my house or my sons, since shit, they love you. I just want you to know, it's cool to want what you want and go get it. But this guy, if he wants this cadet, and you want to stop it, you be really fucking careful. Is that understood Lance Corporal Skinner?" 

"Affirmative, Colonel O'Neill." The men shook hands and went back to their sandwiches as Howlin' Wolf sang about asking his woman for water and she gave him gasoline. 

* * *

Alex had always liked libraries. He felt safe in them and more than that, he felt rich, as if every book on the shelf was his and the librarian was a humble servant to fetch whichever tome struck his notice. Some would say it was musty and stale, but the scent of old books, well-used and cared for was the richest perfume to him. He decided to study at the library tonight because Murphy was at a seminar on computer crime that was being given on campus. Alex had looked at the curriculum and quickly decided that it was way below his level. Waste of time going... 

Forensic science however was something he had not mastered. Between an inborn squeamishness and Dr. Morton, Alex was struggling with the class. His mind blanked out when it came to memorizing the stages to be expected in decay, the factors that could result in early or late rigor mortis and all the other horrors a good agent needed to know. 

Opening the large textbook, Alex winced as he saw the first color plate. Forensic entomology made him want to lose his cookies. He couldn't believe sane, normal people wanted to live with this kind of crap every day! 

Deep into a list of factors that could delay insect infestation, Alex let down his guard as he finally succeeded in conquering his natural revulsion to allow his curious intellect to prevail. He was getting it, understanding why this information was so important. Making notes as he read, Alex was eager to see which of the two strongly opinionated entomologists were right about the amount of time a corpse had been left in a field. One argued that maggot temperature mass made a difference and the other felt that this factor was useless as a determinant. 

A single sheet of paper dropped on Alex's book. Annoyed at the interruption, Alex glared upwards. Oh, shit, Dr. Morton, a smiling Dr. Morton. The teacher sat down next to Alex and said, "Interesting, it's just a name, a date, an address, but ah, such a difference it can make." 

His bony hand caressing a full color plate of roaches, Dr. Morton said, "How lovely to find you studying some of my favorite things! Agent Krycek, no, I must begin to call you, Alex, you are an impulsive and ungoverned young man, a person who could go far in the FBI or who could go down crashing without a strong hand to guide you. I am more than willing to be your mentor, your paiderastes, as it were." 

As the hand ventured from the book to Alex's hand, Alex pulled away and stood up. He glanced again at the name on the slip of paper. David Conner was an up and coming politician these days, happily married, probably hardly remembering his brief fling with an attractive freshman. He was one of several lovers Alex had enjoyed in college, all prized for their discretion as well as their sexual attractiveness, but of all his former amours, David had the most to lose if his relationship with Alex were to be outed. 

"He was a college friend," Alex said, returning the slip of paper to Morton. "I don't know why you think his name and address would change my mind about how I feel about you. I could go to Dean Brown with what you just said to me." 

"You were seen, dear, sweet Alex," Morton gloated. "David's room mate came back early one night and saw you together. He said nothing then, but now he works for a certain gentleman I know. The information was brought forth as potentially useful should we decide to encourage David's career, as it were. The carrot and the stick, I always say, works well for persuading influential men to lend their aid when needed." 

Looking around, Alex saw the library was nearly deserted. He didn't think Morton would act overtly here and right now, it seemed best to play along. It wasn't as if Alex couldn't handle himself physically, but he still lacked the skill not to seriously hurt his opponent. Let the man think his trick was working. Alex said, "I need some time to think. Could I meet you at the pathology lab tomorrow night?" 

"I look forward to it," Morton said. "I'm sure you'll make the right decision. I shall see you there at eight. Don't be late, my dear." 

* * *

How bad could it be? Alex wondered. Maybe he should do it, let Morton fuck him a few times until the man was bored with him. It wasn't as if Alex lacked experience. He grimaced as he thought about it. It definitely sucked. Morton was a nasty character and Alex had the feeling that he had played this game before. Alex was tough and he had his share of hard knocks. He could get through this, but what about the next guy? Damn it. Someone had to stop Morton, get him out of a position of authority that he was not fit to fill. 

Alex could go directly to Dean Brown, but somehow that didn't sound like the best plan. He was just a young trainee here on sufferance. He didn't have the experience that many of the trainees had nor did he have the family background most of them took for granted. Alex's own family didn't have money or power. His mother and her parents had raised him. They loved him dearly, but they had been dirt poor. He had known his entire life that whatever he wanted; he would have to earn, to fight for. Well, this was no different. There was someone that Alex felt would help him. AD Skinner was a stand up guy. Even if he didn't seem to return Alex's feelings, Skinner would believe him. The AD had already bailed Alex out of two situations with Morton. Alex was sure that Skinner would believe him. He would wait until tomorrow night. That hand to hand training session would be very private, given that most of the class would at the class social. 

Alex decided that even if AD Skinner told him that he was out of the FBI because he had 'told' that it was better than being outed by Morton or giving in, and never knowing if he could have made it on his own. It wasn't as if Alex was always a devotee of doing the right thing. He had fought dirty in more venues than the back alleys of New York when he had to do it. However, he had a feeling that this was a turning point of his life. His choices now determined his destiny. It was a frightening thing to put your entire destiny in a stranger's hand...Alex hoped he was right about Walter Skinner. 

* * *

"Man, you look strung out," Murphy remarked as Alex leaned into her doorway to say goodnight. "What happened?" 

"Morton," Alex replied. "He showed up at the library and he's upped the ante." 

"Meaning?" Murphy asked. 

"That he's bringing a friend of mine into it," Alex said. "Murphy, we haven't really talked about me, the way I am." 

"You're my friend, my little brother," Murphy said. "That's all that matters to me." 

"Can I come in?" Alex asked. "I'll leave the door open. We can keep our voices low." 

"Yeah, come here," Murphy said. "Tell me what's going on." 

Sitting on Murphy's desk chair, Alex straddled it backwards. He said, "Morgan knows about someone I dated in college, someone who has even more to lose than I do. I'm supposed to meet with him tomorrow and either I do what he wants or he's going to out my friend." 

"Shit, the fucking bastard," Murphy said. She scrubbed her hand through her red hair, sending it even further awry. "You can't give in, Alex." 

"I know. I thought about it," Alex said. "I'm no blushing virgin and I could live through having sex with someone who I don't like. What's stopping me is knowing that it might not end there. I do it and he has even a greater hold on me. Not to mention that I have a feeling I'm not the first trainee he's pulled this shit on." 

"So what are we going to do?" Murphy said. 

"You are going to keep your freckled Irish nose out of this and I am going to come clean with AD Skinner. He's been trying to help me and I think I can trust him. I'm supposed to get a hand to hand combat lesson from him tomorrow night. I'm going to tell him then," Alex said. "I'm supposed to meet Dr. Morton at the pathology lab at eight PM. Maybe I can have AD Skinner to get someone in place to hear what Morton has to say." 

"Kiddo, it's a dangerous game you're playing," Murphy said. 

"It's the only one in town," Alex said. "I decided that if fate wants me to stay in the academy then that fate better get me the help I need. If I wash out, well, being a FBI agent is my dream, but I'll find something else to do. I'm not going to let Morton do this to me." 

"Good man," Murphy said. "Anything I can do to help..." 

"You already have," Alex said, getting up to kiss her on her forehead. "You listened to me. You don't care about anything but who I am, not who I love." 

"You got that," Murphy said. "I'm in your corner." 

* * *

After Alex went to his room, he almost picked up his mobile phone to call David and warn him, but he changed his mind. If things went well tomorrow, David would be safe and never have to worry about it. Alex had to wonder though about Morton's comments. There was a secret organization that kept dirty secrets about American politicians...Well, Alex had heard of J. Edgar's enemy list, but this sounded different than spying. This sounded like black ops. What the hell was going on in the FBI? 

The next day rushed by except for two classes, Skinner's evidence class because it was heaven and Morton's pathology class because it was hell. Alex was so nervous that he couldn't even eat lunch and he never skipped a meal! 

After a light dinner, Alex went to the gym early. He showered again, washing thoroughly as if getting ready for a hot date. Damn, if AD Skinner even winked at him, Alex would gladly drop his gym shorts for him. Of course, AD Skinner wouldn't ever pull shit like Morton was doing, not even if he was interested in Alex. Why the hell wasn't it ever simple? 

* * *

When Alex emerged from the shower, AD Skinner was already warming up. He was pounding away at the speed bag and he was fucking beautiful. Alex stood stock still and drooled. You would never think that those suits hid so much pure muscle and that ass...songs could be sung about that ass and those legs. 

Skinner was concentrating so hard on his punches that he didn't notice Alex come in until he stopped, sweating and panting. Wiping his face with a towel, Skinner said, "Sorry. That's my favorite way to relax. Some people do yoga, I box." 

"I should try that some time," Alex ventured. He saw the way that Skinner took in his skimpy shorts and sleeveless tee shirt. The guy didn't look at him as a straight man would, but he didn't seem comfortable with his feelings either. It was weird, but weird in nice way, not like that creep Morton made Alex feel. 

"How much do you know about wrestling?" Skinner asked. 

"I made the team in high school, but my grandparents wanted me to be an alter boy so I had to quit. I wasn't happy about it, but my grandparents made a lot of sacrifices for Mom and me. My dad died when I was three," Alex said. 

"We have things in common, Agent Krycek," Skinner said. "My father also died when I was young." 

"Yes, sir," Alex said. "Sir? I really need to talk to you." 

"About Morton?" Skinner asked. 

"Yeah," Alex answered. 

"Let's practice first," Skinner said. "You'll be more relaxed after a workout." 

"Okay, sounds good to me," Alex said, wishing his cock would lie down in his shorts. If he was getting horny at the sound of Skinner's voice, how was he going to handle having the man touch him? 

"So you should know the basic moves?" Walter said. "Warm up a little and we'll go from there." 

"I usually warm up with tai chi," Alex said. He had taken tai chi in college because he had heard that it helped with your poise and grace as well as making you more limber. Limber was good and Alex never felt graceful. He had grown into his height late in life and never recovered the feel of being entirely comfortable in his body that he had before that late growth spurt. 

Hmm, Skinner was really watching and if Alex spared a glance at the man's crotch, he thought he saw a twitch or two from the barely concealed bulge. Oh, man, wrestling! 

Too bad that Morton was waiting. If not, Alex would have used this session to his full advantage. He had the feeling that Skinner was starting to melt. He had a chance to break through the guy's wall and seduce him. 

When Alex was glowing with exertion and feeling that good heat in his limbs that said he was ready to push his limits, Skinner said, "All right, Agent Krycek, let's see what you have. Do a take down..." 

Right. Like trying to bring down a frigging mountain with a toothpick. Alex hooked a leg and tried his best, but ended up pinned on the mat himself. Damn, he had to keep concentrating or he would give in to the urge to go limp and just enjoy Skinner's body on top of him; he was tempted to take advantage of the closeness to cop a feel. 

Skinner was giving him some room to maneuver and Alex intended to show the man that he wasn't a wimp. He reached back into the past and remembered a countermove. He wedged an arm under Skinner's massive, very hot arm and threw all of his weight to one side. He thought that he might really have surprised Skinner. They went through the moves of high school wrestling, Skinner correcting him when he was rusty or uncertain. 

It was sweet torture to have Skinner's hands on him, to feel himself pinned again and again by that Herculean body and to try like hell not to be aroused. Damn, when Skinner's leg penetrated his thighs, Alex lost it. His cock stood up and his legs wanted to rise right over Skinner's hips and welcome him in. Skinner's face was a study of tantalization and trepidation. 

"Agent Krycek, I think that's enough, we need to cool down," Skinner said, pulling away. 

"Please don't leave," Alex said, his voice cracking with stress. 

"I think I should," Skinner said. "Not that it's an issue, it happens sometimes, the adrenaline, the body gets over stimulated." 

"Sir, that may be so, but that's not what's happening with me," Alex said. "AD Skinner, I'm gay." 

"I can pretend that I didn't hear that," Skinner said. 

"Please don't," Alex said. "I know that this is very uncomfortable for you, but I really need help. I have to talk to someone I can trust and I trust you." 

Walter was sitting up, staring down at Alex, who couldn't move, couldn't stop sprawling on that mat as if waiting for a lover to join him. "Your friend, Murphy, seems as if she is a good listener." 

"I know, she is," Alex said, "It's something Murphy can't help me with. It's Dr. Morton, sir. He's been coming on to me, pressuring me for sex." 

Now Skinner turned beet red and said, "I'll kill him. I'll kill him with my bare hands." 

Damn if Skinner didn't sound like he meant it. Skinner held out his hand and said, "Let's go sit on the bench. Don't be afraid. I'm going to make this right for you." 

"Thank you," Alex said. He let Skinner lead him to the bench, the AD's hand on the small of his back, supporting him and guiding him. 

Skinner hung his head and shook it. "I'm a sanctimonious bastard," he growled. "I want to kill Morton and I'm fighting the sa..." 

Alex had never seen such pain in a man's face. He didn't know what was wrong with Skinner although he sensed it was more than the late awakening of homosexual feelings. Someone had really messed with Skinner's head. He seemed afraid of his own body. 

"Morton's trying to blackmail me. I had a friend in college, a guy who's about eighty percent straight. I was lucky his twenty percent gay was all for me," Alex said. "It was never supposed to be anything serious, but it was good, really good. David has moved on. I was his fling, his little experiment on the other side. Now he's married with a kid and he's starting on a great life in politics, which is what he wanted. Morton is threatening to out him unless I have sex with him." 

"If your friend is a man, he'll come clean with it rather than let you whore yourself for him," Walter said. 

"Please, sir," Alex said. "I couldn't do that to him. I thought that maybe if you could get Dean Brown to come to Morton's lab tonight, he could hear for himself. I can try to maneuver the conversation so I don't have to admit that I'm gay. Not that I want to hide it, but there's that don't ask, don't tell stuff." 

"That could work," Skinner said. "You go get a shower and I'll call Dean Brown. What time are you supposed to meet Morton and where?" 

"Pathology lab at eight o'clock," Alex said. He wanted to kiss Skinner and he wanted to ask him what he meant, that he was fighting the same...did he mean what Alex hoped? That he wanted Alex too? 

* * *

When Walter went into the shower, he started to turn the dial to cold, wanting the freezing blast to freeze his rebellious flesh into submission. Suddenly he thought of what Mauga had said to him. His mother was dead. She wasn't his conscience anymore and Walter didn't want her to be. Suddenly, he gasped and sobbed. He had to face the truth. He didn't love her. He hated her. The mother he loved had died with his father, leaving a crazed harridan who beat him and terrified him into this parody of life he had been living. 

Still sobbing, Walter grasped his cock, his still erect cock, and stroked it. He didn't listen to the fading ghost screaming about hellfire. He listened to the breathy sounds that Alex Krycek had made as they wrestled. He remembered how soft Alex's skin was, how firm the flesh of his thighs was. He remembered the jolt when he felt the man's erection through those thin wrestling shorts. It didn't take much to bring him over the edge. 

Nothing happened afterwards except the abundant hot water washed his come down the drain and he felt as if the tension of a lifetime went with it. Walter knew enough about psychology to know that it was going to take more than this to be cured of the damage Mother had done to him, but it was a hell of a start. 

Alex Krycek had given him the gift of the truth and Walter was going to return the favor, by making sure that Morton would never put another cadet though hell. 

Dean Brown called to say that he would be there in fifteen minutes. That would give Walter and him time to find hiding places in the lab to listen to what Morton had to say to Alex. 

Looking at Alex's grim young face, Walter couldn't help letting his hand rest on his shoulder comfortingly. He said, "Don't worry. We'll get this trap set. After all, we have excellent bait." 

It took Walter a moment to realize that was flirting. Another moment to listen for his mother's harping voice and to realize it was silent. Thank God and Walter did not mean that ironically. 

* * *

Hiding in the large supply closet, Dean Brown muttered, "I swear to God, Walter Skinner, if it turns out that this is some kind of practical joke, I'm going to bust you back to trainee." 

"It's not a joke. Be quiet," Walter said. 

A moment later the door opened and Morton's voice said, "Alex, I see you changed clothes for me. That black sweater and pants is very attractive. One of the benefits of being under my wings is that I'm going to dress you properly. We'll dispose of all those terrible suits you wear to class and I'll have my tailor attend to you." 

"Morton, you can't be serious about this," Alex said. 

Walter angled around so Dean Brown could see through the crack in the door, confirming visually that it was Doctor Morton speaking. 

"Dear Alex, I am, without a doubt, very serious about you. It will be to your advantage to become my eromenos, not only here, but throughout your career. I can get you stationed in Washington DC, keep you on the fast track for promotion," Morton said. 

Backing away from Morton, Alex was either deliberately or accidentally maneuvering him to keep him in view of the closet where Dean Brown and Walter observed. 

"Look, I don't know why you think I would do this," Alex said. "or why you would want a guy who wants nothing to do with you." 

"Because you are beautiful," Morton said. "You are so desirable, so innocent. I want to make love to you, keep you like the precious thing that you are. You're like some exotic flower in the middle of a dull world of colorless puppets. You have fire and originality that will be lost unless I take care of you." 

"I'm still saying no," Alex said. "I'm walking out of here straight to Dean Brown." 

"Don't be a fool," Morton said. "Alex, think of your career. Don't make me ruin you." 

"I would rather be dead than have you touch me," Alex spat. 

The arguing pair went out of sight for a moment and then Walter heard glass breaking. He had enough and he hoped Dean Brown had as well. 

Bursting out, Walter saw Alex struggling with Morton, who was surprisingly strong. Morton had ripped Alex's shirt nearly in half, displaying silken flesh, nipples like pink rosebuds, the swell of his pectorals and the whirl of hair beneath his arm. 

Grabbing Morton off Alex, Walter delivered a roundhouse to his jaw, spinning Morton into Dean Brown's unwilling embrace. Dean Brown said, "Enough, Walter. Enough. Get a grip on yourself." 

Taking charge, Dean Brown asked, "Agent Krycek, are you all right?" 

"Look, Jim, I'm not sure what you think is going on," Morton said. "Agent Krycek and I were discussing his failing grades. He offered me sex and I, of course, declined. He then assaulted me and I had to defend myself." 

"Morton, I heard," Brown said. "I heard every word. I have to say when Walter Skinner came to me with his story I didn't want to believe it. Certainly, I've heard rumors about Trainee Hardy, but I tried not to believe them. Now, now, I am so disgusted with you. You will leave this campus and you can expect a team from OPR to interview you tomorrow. That is unless," Brown turned to Alex and asked, "Do you want to press assault charges? I could have the police respond." 

"No, I just want him out of here," Alex said. "I want to make sure he doesn't do this to any other trainee. The assault's just a side issue. Listen, I want to go to my room. I'm exhausted. Do you need a statement now?" 

"No, we'll get you in the morning," Dean Brown said. 

"He's a queer," Morton said. "A whore. Can't you see it?" 

As much as Walter wanted to rip the man's obscene tongue out of his mouth, he knew better. He contented himself with frowning at Morton with the expression that once made a Viet Kong national decide to confess without Walter putting a hand on him. Dean Brown said, "Walter, why don't you walk Agent Krycek back to the dorm. I'll make sure that Doctor Morton leaves the campus." 

Nodding, Walter took off his coat and gallantly draped it over Alex's shoulders. Alex was shaking slightly, reaction to the stress he had been through and the aborted fight. "It's over now, Agent Krycek. You did well. You kept your cool with Morton. Come on. I'll see you to your room." 

* * *

Walking across campus, Walter Skinner's hand on Alex's arm, his coat across Alex's shoulders, still warm from his body, gradually the adrenaline faded, leaving Alex feeling extraordinarily light headed. He almost felt as if he was being escorted home from a date. 

"Thank you, sir," Alex said, "for believing me, for helping me." 

"Anyone would have done the same," Walter replied, stopping for a moment. A distant light lit him from behind, darkening his features, his thick, sensual mouth suggesting passion, his brown eyes black in the shadows, his high cheeks. 

It was the face of a khan, a tsar, some wild man used to taking what he wanted...Alex knew that was far from true. Walter Skinner was a man of restraint, a man who kept his desires leashed yet Alex wanted to snap that restraint, let the inner man loose and meet that passion with his own desire. 

It must have shown in his face. Slowly, Skinner's hand was drawn upward, almost touching Alex's face. He stopped himself before he connected, his hand trembling in the air. "God, I'm as bad as Morton." 

"No," Alex said, "You're nothing like him. Sir...Walter, some things are meant to be, not meant to be thrown aside, disciplined out of existence. Right now, if you said I could be with you, I'd give up my chance here, give up every thing to be with you." 

"I want to say that I agree," Skinner replied. "but _I_ have work here, have people who need me. _You_ have a bright future and I would be the biggest asshole on the planet to ask you to give that up for me. You don't really know me. You don't know that I...I couldn't give you what you want, Alex." 

"Because you're straight?" Alex asked. 

"Straight?" Skinner repeated. He laughed harshly, "I'm not straight or gay or...I'm no one's lover." 

"Not yet," Alex said. "I can keep secrets, Walter. No one would know. I don't care if you haven't had any experiences. In fact, that would mean so much to me. To be first. Your first male lover. Maybe your only one." 

"My first lover. Period. No exclamation marks," Skinner replied. 

Wow. 

His first lover...to unleash all that must be inside this kind, strong man. To erase the lines of sorrow and need from his face. Alex needed that more than anything. 

"I can't do that to you," Skinner said firmly. "Forget we ever had this conversation." 

"I won't forget," Alex said. "When you're ready, I'll be there." 

Skinner's eyes drank Alex in, all of him from head to foot, like a man dying of thirst would drink in cool water. So much need. Hopefully too much to deny much longer. 

They walked the remaining distance in silence. Skinner walked Alex all the way up to his room. The rest of the class was still out, even Murphy, but that was all right. Alex would use the time to dream and hope. 

It wasn't until Alex saw Skinner walking away, white shirt shining that he realized that he still wore Skinner's jacket. Holding it around him, Alex breathed in the scent of the first man he had ever wanted enough to pursue. 

A noise from the direction of his closet startled Alex. He started to turn when something came around his neck, a well-planned chokehold that made his knees buckle almost instantly. Something sharply sweet flooded his senses, a cloth was held over his face. He managed to fight free for a moment, gasping for the breath to yell for help. His assailant slammed him onto his bed, held him down, bony arm pressing his face into the chemical soaked rag. 

It was like sinking into deep water...limbs growing heavy and numb. His fear dulling as he gave into the pull of this dark, dark sleep... 

* * *

His stomach roiled and he gagged as he woke. Where the hell was he? Alex heard a sound, a strange sibilant alien hiss. He opened his eyes to see an alien in front of him. 

The creature was at least four inches long, with waving hairy antennae and lumpy horns. Its faceted eyes seemed to gaze challengingly at Alex. 

Morton's voice said, "He's the prize of my collection, dear Alex. Or he was until I had you. You and he are the only pets I will be able to take with me. You will have to become close friends." 

The room was dimly lit, overly warm with a fetid smell, there were patches of brighter lights from aquariums around the room. Strange plants grew in terrariums, one specimen seemed to glow and as Alex's horrified glance fell on it, he realized it was growing from a lump of decaying meat. He fought back his nausea to take inventory of himself. 

Alex lay on an examination table, straps firmly binding his arms and legs. Morton had removed his clothing. He was nude and he felt strange. Arching to look down at himself, Alex realized he had been shaved. He was naked as a child. His penis lay incongruously adult and male against a naked crotch. 

"I made you even more beautiful," Morton said. "As time goes by, you will come to love this look. I may add a subtle touch or two, nothing outre, just some small enhancements to display you better. Perhaps my name tattooed here and there to mark you as my own. Now, I'll leave Jacob with you for company while I pack. We are going away together, dear Alex, to a remote place I know where Walter Skinner or Dean Brown nor anyone else will never disturb our tryst." 

Strong yet nearly fleshless fingers stroked across Alex's cheek; he flinched back as far as he could, but the straps were rigid. 

"Fuck you, Morton," Alex said. "You'll never get me out of the country." 

"Oh, you will be pleasantly surprised," Morton said. "I am a man of wealth and taste. I have power, the power to keep you safe even from yourself. You will come to love me and respect me, Alex." 

A blissful smile twisting across Morton's sharply boned face, the man lowered his hand with the hissing cockroach onto Alex's bare chest. "His name is Jacob Hardy, a perfect replacement for the inferior creature that so failed to meet my needs. You will do better, Alex...or you will end up feeding Jacob and his many relatives." 

Leaving Alex losing the battle at last with his nausea, Morton left the room, his stride that of a happy, fulfilled man. 

* * *

Morton was back with a warm bowl of water and a towel, which he set on a small cart before rolling it near the table to which Alex was strapped. Gently he picked up the roach and put him in a small carrier on the second shelf of the cart. Alex's eyes tracked Morton's movements as he went about preparing to clean up Alex's vomit. 

"Tsk tsk, really dear Alex, you should try to be more careful. You've created quite the mess," Morton cooed as he cleaned Alex's face. 

Alex's mouth felt vile and he swallowed hard trying to work up enough saliva to spit. He wasn't about to ask Morton for a glass of water and the man seemed unwilling to offer. 

"When we are ready to continue our journey I won't have time to stop and clean you up, so try to be more careful." 

"Where...where are we going?" Alex asked, hoping to stall the nut case until someone, anyone discovered he was missing. There weren't any windows in the room so he couldn't judge the time of day. It felt like he had been out for hours, but there was no way he could tell. 

"That is no concern of yours dear Alex. Don't worry your pretty little head, we will be safe." 

* * *

Murphy rolled over and sat up, stretching the kinks out of her back. She checked her clock. It was only 6:30 but she had already slept later than planned. The social had been fun, although her mind had spent a lot of time wondering how things went with Alex and Morton. She wished he had let her be involved. When she had finally made it back to the dorms, she had stopped briefly at his door. Murphy had hesitated knocking incase Alex was asleep. It had been a stressful week and he needed the rest. 

They had plans to run this morning. It was coming down to the wire before their finals and she and Alex had been on the track every morning by seven. Murphy picked up her cell to call him. If he were still asleep he would either appreciate the wake up call or curse her in Russian. Murphy decided to wait a bit before calling. She laughed. Her little brother was not a morning person. 

After a quick shower she headed to the tracks. If Alex wasn't there, then she would break down and call. 

The campus was still and quiet. Murphy usually loved this time of morning but as the minutes ticked by her gut was telling her something was wrong. Murphy cleared her mind and let the feelings wash over her. She never wanted to be a profiler, climbing into the head of deranged individuals was not her cup a tea. But since she was a young girl her intuition had served her well with those she was close to. She could feel when something was amiss with her family and friends, sometimes before they knew. Her mother had called it a gift of empathy; Murphy called it being a worrywart and tried her best keep her mind occupied so it wouldn't happen. 

She walked onto the track and set her gym bag and bottle of water down next to the bench. Murphy bent over to start a good long stretch when it hit her. The feeling of dread almost knocked her to her knees. It was Alex. She knew something was wrong and he wouldn't show up for their run. Her hand trembling, she pulled out her cell phone, looked up Skinner's number in her phonebook and hit send. 

* * *

Walter's phone rang just as he was pulling into the parking lot at Quantico. He had decided to personally check on Alex this morning, instead of just calling. His heart leaped a little wondering if it might be the young Agent calling him. His caller id showed Murphy's number instead. 

"Skinner." 

"Sir, it's Janice Murphy," a tight slightly strained voice sounded at the other end. 

"Agent Murphy, is everything okay?" 

"Sir, Alex hasn't shown up for our run this morning." 

"Agent Krycek had an eventful night, I'm sure he is just sleeping in," Walter said calmly. 

"Walter, I've got one of those feelings," Murphy answered, dropping all formality. 

"Meet me at his room." Walter hung up his phone and slammed into a handicap parking spot closest to the dorm. He remembered Murphy's 'feelings'; they were somewhat like Mulder's. It was one of the many reasons he had encourage her to attend the FBI Academy. 

Murphy wasn't far behind him when he arrived at Alex's door. She was breathing heavy having apparently run there straight from the track. 

"Have you tried calling him?" Walter asked as he knocked on the door. 

"No," Murphy answered, but was pressing her speed dial as she spoke. They both could hear the phone ringing inside. Walter knocked louder. He didn't need Murphy's intuition any longer he knew something was wrong. 

Cadets were starting to come out of their rooms having been awakened by the loud pounding. Walter turned to the nearest one and ordered him to get campus security. 

He directed his next statement to Murphy,"555-6266, it's Dean Brown's number. Get him over here, now!" He stopped knocking on the door, he had just about decided to break it down when security showed up with the keys. Walter grabbed the keys from the man's hands and shoved him out of the way. He found the key with the proper room number and quickly unlocked the door. 

The room was empty except for Walter's jacket crumpled beside a slightly messed up twin bed. 

* * *

Cigarette smoked swirled lazily towards the ceiling. Luis tried not watching the smoke, but Spender made him nervous. The man couldn't just give you orders and be done with it. No, Spender liked to make you wait, study you with those watery blue eyes, seeing how long before you started squirming. He hated that. Who, what, where, and when and maybe a how if there was a particular message which needed sent. Luis didn't need to know why he was making the hit or what the mark did to warrant Spender's wrath; he took the subject out and got a way. That was Luis Cardinal's job and he considered himself one of the best. Especially in the Consortium where most of the old men were too good to get their hands dirty. 

Spender's voice startled Luis out of his musings. "Doctor Percival Morton has made a mistake. He underestimated us and disregarded my orders. I want you show him the error of his ways and make sure he never has the opportunity to make the mistake again." 

"You want me to use the car bomb?" Luis asked. He was smart enough to realize when Spender had ordered Morton's car to be wired the man's number was coming up. 

"No, the addition to his vehicle was merely a precautionary measure." Spender lit another cigarette; the first still warm in the ashtray, Luis could still see a slight glow from the dying embers. "Dr. Morton will fall victim to his passions." 

Dead's dead, Luis thought but merely nodded his head. He turned to leave when Spender spoke once more. "There will be a boy with him. Unwillingly. He is not to be harmed." 

"Yes, sir." Luis quietly shut the door to the smoky office, thinking it would be a little trickier to off Morton without the victim becoming a witness. 

* * *

"Murphy, I need you to organize a team and sweep the room. Gather evidence," Walter said as he was pulling out his cell phone to call Mauga. 

"Sir, we know who took Alex. Wouldn't it be best to...?" 

"Agent Murphy," Walter said in he best AD tone. "We don't know if Alex has been taken." He put up his hand to stop Murphy from interrupting again. "If indeed Agent Krycek has been taken against his will, we will need concrete evidence." Turning to the cadets peeking in the doorway hoping to see what was happening, he said, "This is the real deal. I'm putting Agent Murphy in charge. She has the most background experience. Whomever she chooses to be on her team, I expect you to follow her orders as if they were from me. The rest of you stay out of the way." 

"Murphy secure the scene and check for evidence. You know the routine, fingerprints, hair, fiber. I want you to go over this room with a fine tooth comb. Anything that looks like evidence, is." 

The sea of curious cadets parted and Dean Brown rushed into the room. "What's going on here Walter?" 

"Morton's what's going on. The slimly bastard must have come back to finish what he started!" Murphy spouted out in anger and frustration. The longer they stood around talking, the more chance Morton would have to disappear. The look Walter was giving her stopped her in her tracks. Visibly swallowing her next words, she walked around the two men and into the hall. 

Walter and Dean Brown could hear her shouting out the names of the cadets for her team and telling them what they would need to bring with them. 

"Jim, Morton's taken Agent Krycek," Walter explained to the confused dean. 

"Are you sure, Walter?" 

"I'm not wrong and we both know it. I need you to try and get a hold of Morton. If you can, try and stall him." 

"What are you going to be doing?" 

Walter glanced down at his cell, Mauga's number already on screen. He looked up at Brown with a grim smile. "I'm calling in reinforcements that you do not need to know about." 

"Agent Krycek is my responsibility while he is a cadet here." 

"No, Jim. You don't want to be involved in this. Stay here, try and stall Morton if you can reach him. Help Murphy with the evidence gathering and let me take care of the rest." 

"All right, Walter. Be careful." Walter nodded and turned to leave. 

Walter walked solemnly out to his car, his purposeful steps sparing no bit of ground in his hurry. They had lost precious time. Morton could be anywhere at this point. Starting his car and pulling out of the lot, he waited impatiently for Mauga to answer his call. A way too cheerful voice greeted Walter after two rings. 

"What's up, Half-pint?" 

"Morton's kidnapped Alex," Walter said getting right to the point. "Meet me at his house." 

"Whoa, hold on there. Do we know for sure Morton's behind this? Maybe the kid just went to see his folks." 

Walter explained what happened the night before, not leaving out any details and relaying Morton's threats. Mauga thought on this a moment. "He's not at his house. Too obvious. If he hasn't left town already, Morton will be at his secondary residence." 

"What's the address?" 

* * *

Luis watched Morton make several trips to his car from the building. So far no sign of another party, it looked like the smoker was off his mark this time. When Morton disappeared inside again, Luis made his move. He worked his way inside listening for signs of where Morton was. As he made his way further down the hallway, the fetid smell assaulted him. God it smelled as if someone had died, he thought. Well if not yet, then soon, he chuckled silently. 

He followed his nose into a room lit by aquarium and terrarium lights. In the middle of the room was a young man strapped to a metal table. Luis shuddered. The whole scene reminded him of the times Spender had sent him to one of the 'special' labs. He heard movement out in the hall. Quickly taking cover he waited for Morton. 

Morton entered the room and immediately approached the figure on the exam table, reverently stroking up and down the prone body. 

"Alex, my dear. Wake up," he said, lightly patting the slack face. "We will be leaving soon. I need to give you another injection. Wouldn't want you to panic and upset Jacob during our journey." Morton pulled a syringe out of his pocket and started to inject Alex and then unexpectedly moved up to place a kiss on the slightly parted lips. 

Alex tried to move his head away, but it seemed he had lost even that ability. He hoped whatever it was Morton was shooting him up with wouldn't make him vomit again. Morton kept cooing nonsense and stroking Alex's face. It made his flesh crawl worse than the disgusting roach perched on his chest. Morton paused in his caress of Alex's face to run a light finger down the roaches back. The roach let out a hiss but didn't move. 

A movement in the corner caught Alex's eye. He could only make out a shadow as it moved up behind Morton. Morton gasped as a thin wire strangled him. Luis maneuvered Morton over to the aquarium housing a spider Luis recognized. He had seen enough of tarantulas back in his native Venezuela to last him the rest of his life. As much as he loathed the creatures, he hated to see them put on display for curious Americans. Well, this one would have the last laugh. He positioned Morton's body in front of the aquarium and slammed Morton down against it, neatly slicing the doctor's throat, effectively hiding the damage from the piano wire. 

* * *

Walter and Mauga arrived at the same time. Morton's car was still in the driveway. Neither spoke a word, falling into each other's pattern as if twenty years hadn't passed. 

Entering the room, Walter's was greeted with his worse nightmare since he had found Alex missing. Alex's nude body was lying on a metal table in the middle of the room. Walter squinted in the dim light, hoping to spot some movement. Something to assure him Alex was still alive. 

Mauga nudged his elbow and pointed. In the corner, Morton's lifeless body was hanging precariously from a broken aquarium, a large tarantula covering his head. Walter immediately rushed to Alex's side and stopped short. Perched on Alex's chest was the largest damn cockroach he had ever seen. Angrily he swatted the vile creature off Alex's chest and he heard it land with a loud thump. 

Leaning over Alex, Walter checked for a pulse and was surprised by the strong heartbeat he detected. He started to lift one of Alex's eyelids when the lush lashes fluttered and Walter found two glazed green eyes looking at him. 

"Walter," Alex said. His voice was raw and barely a whisper. 

"It's going to be all right, you're safe now," Walter tried to assure him. 

"Morton?" Alex asked. 

"He's dead," Walter replied, combing his fingers through Alex's hair. "He must have slipped and fallen into one of his aquariums. You don't have to worry about him any more." 

"Walter, it wasn't an accident...someone was here," Alex croaked out. Walter had been using one hand to release Alex's bindings. He helped Alex sit up and wrapped a nearby sheet around him, for the first time being consciously aware of Alex's nude state. He pulled Alex into his arms. Alex didn't seem to have much control of his limbs and his head fell limply on Walter's shoulder. His left shoulder looked inflamed and bruised into the joint. Alex had probably wrenched it trying to get free at some point, Walter decided. 

Mauga shook his head at Alex's statement and showed Walter a vial. Alex must have imagined someone else there, but they would deal with it when he was more coherent. Walter tried to help Alex stand up, but his legs didn't seem to work properly. He was just about to pick him up when Alex let out a mournful "No", shuddered convulsively and tried to move his bare feet. 

Walter looked down and the roach he had first found on Alex's chest was crawling over Alex's feet. It fell off when Alex jerked his foot again. Walter raised his foot up, deciding the roach would meet the same fate as its owner. 

"Stop, Half-pint," Mauga said. "It's not this little guy's fault." He bent down and picked the hissing creature and placed him in a small carrier he found by the table. "My sons would love him, at least I think it's a him." 

* * *

"I'm fine," Alex insisted, irritably pushing back the rumpled blanket covering him and sitting upright in the hospital bed. He managed to swing his left leg half-way out of the bed before all the color drained out of his face and he began to sway dangerously. 

"Fine," Walter repeated sarcastically, rolling his eyes at the other man's stubbornness. He pressed his right hand gently against Alex's chest and, despite the deliberate lightness of his touch, Alex sank backward until his head was again lying on the pillow, wincing a bit when his left shoulder hit the bed. "The drugs are going to take several hours to work their way out of your system. Besides, the doctor said he wanted you to stay here for a minimum of 24 hours for observation, incase that bruised shoulder isn't the only injury." 

"But I feel fine. Well, okay not 'fine', but I sure as hell don't need to stay in hospital. I just need some sleep and I'll rest better in my own bed," Alex argued. 

Walter was highly doubtful that Alex would rest at all in his room at Quantico. Regardless of his brave words, returning so soon to the place where Morton had kidnapped him from was the last thing Alex needed. 

It wasn't possible anyway. Alex's room had been cordoned off with crime scene tape while Murphy and the other cadets conducted a forensic examination. Even though Morton had been 'caught in the act', it was still necessary to collect evidence to establish the details of the kidnapping. If only to ensure that the case could be closed and Alex's record would remain unblemished by the incident. 

"Consider it an order, if that helps," he suggested. "Alternatively, consider it a short vacation on the tax-payer's expense. Even hospital food has to be better than we get at the mess at Quantico." 

Alex managed a wan smile at the joke, but his lips remained set in a stubborn line and his eyes darkened with obvious dread. 

"What's wrong?" Walter asked, though he felt pretty stupid asking under the circumstances. Alex had been kidnapped by a madman, had been drugged and stripped naked and the good lord only knew what _might_ have happened to him if not for Morton's accident. It was a scenario that would give anyone nightmares. Things like that shouldn't happen to anyone, but that it could have happened to a fit, healthy young man with extensive self-defense training somehow made it worse. If it could happen to Alex, it could happen to anyone. 

"Is this...I mean, will this...Shit. What I want to know is whether this is going in my jacket?" 

Walter closed his eyes briefly, in combined relief and regret. Relief that Alex was worrying about the future repercussions rather than dwelling on the actual events of the last few hours and regret because, inevitably, Alex _would_ suffer some fall out unless the incident was handled extremely carefully. While there was no crime in being a victim, any unanswered questions over Morton's actions would inevitably shadow Alex's career in the form of rumor and supposition. 

Nobody _liked_ feeling vulnerable but Law Enforcement officers couldn't _afford_ to feel vulnerable, so they had an unfortunate tendency to blame the victim rather than express empathy if one of their 'own' suffered such a personal attack. 

"There's no way to cover up what happened. But there's no real reason to, either. The investigation is going to be pretty straightforward and aimed purely at establishing Morton's guilt," he assured Alex. "The most fortunate thing about Morton's death is that there won't be a trial." 

Alex nodded his understanding. Morton's death had saved Alex from the ordeal of the witness stand. Any lawyer worth his salt would inevitably have based Morton's defense on an attempt to destroy Alex's credibility as a witness by besmirching his character. Alex's sexuality would inevitably have been uncovered and, given the bigotry of certain people, by the end of the trial half the jury would probably have been convinced that Alex had deliberately seduced Morton. 

"Thank god he didn't rape me," Alex muttered. 

Walter sighed his agreement. Again it wouldn't have been Alex's fault if he'd been abused in that way, but the grapevine _would_ have spread that sordid detail, regardless of how careful the hospital had tried to be in protecting Alex's privacy and, as unfair as it was to admit it, Alex would consequently have lost the respect of his peers and any chance of a career in Law Enforcement. The general attitude was that if a cop or a fibbie had 'allowed' themselves to be raped, then they'd had no business wearing the uniform in the first place. 

It was an attitude that Walter found cruel and unfair, but one he nevertheless understood. No one wanted to be partnered with someone who couldn't watch their back in a life-threatening situation, and no one could be expected to trust a partner who'd been proven incapable of even defending _himself_. 

At least Alex would never be guilty of such narrow-minded, self-protective bigotry, Walter decided. 

"Look on the bright side," he said. 

"There's a bright side?" Alex scoffed. 

"During your career, you're going to meet a lot of victims of kidnap and assault. This experience will at least give you the ability to empathize with them." 

"Rather than treat them like they 'asked for it'?" Alex asked bitterly. 

Walter shrugged. "It happens." 

"I know," Alex sighed. "Know the worst thing? All the time Morton had me, I wasn't sure whether to be scared I wouldn't be rescued or just scared I'd be rescued too late and I'd spend the rest of my life with people whispering about me in locker-rooms." 

"Well, you _were_ rescued in time," Walter pointed out gently. 

"I think that scares me even more," Alex admitted. "Who the hell was that guy? And why did he kill Morton but leave me alive?" 

Walter shook his head sadly. "There wasn't any 'guy', Alex. Morton's death was an accident. Considering the drugs in your..." 

"I didn't imagine it," Alex protested angrily. "Morton was murdered in front of my eyes." 

"I know you believe that but..." Walter began. 

"I know what I saw," Alex interrupted. "It's fuzzy, but I remember it all. He garroted Morton with some kind of wire and threw him against the tank." 

Walter sighed heavily. "We'll discuss it in the morning, after you've had some sleep." 

"Me sleeping isn't going to change the damned facts," Alex muttered, but his face was slack with weariness and he clearly didn't have the energy to continue the argument. 

"We'll talk in the morning," Walter repeated, patting Alex's hand awkwardly. 

He was almost at the door before a sleepy voice called him back. 

"I don't think I said thanks, did I?" 

"No thanks needed, Alex," Walter replied, with a soft smile. 

"I think...it looks like I'm going to need some more of those personal self-defense lessons, Sir," Alex suggested quietly. 

Walter frowned, thinking that Alex was blaming himself for Morton's assault, but then he saw Alex's mouth twitch and the tired green eyes shined with faint humor. 

It was subtle as hell and he _could_ have been imagining it but, for a moment, Walter was totally convinced that Alex was coming on to him. Wishful thinking on his part, maybe, and totally inappropriate given Alex's experience with Morton, and yet he felt his heartbeat quicken in response to the weary smile. 

He waited for his mother's voice to condemn him for his thoughts, but all he heard was the staccato drumming of his own heart. 

"That could...um...that could probably be arranged," he stammered and backed quickly out of the room before he made a fool of himself. 

Walking down the corridor, Walter was held up by milling doctors and nurses attending to a code blue so he barely reached the nurses station before he noticed Mauga heading in his direction from the elevator. Given his size and width, Mauga was clearly identifiable even through a sea of frantic hospital staff. 

"Figured I'd find you still here," Mauga boomed, over several heads. "You need to get your ass out of here so you can switch your cell back on. There's a load of folks wanting to talk to you pronto." 

"What's the panic?" Walter demanded, pushing his way through the crowd until they were face to face. 

"I think you'd better sit down, Half-Pint. I just got a sneak peak at the autopsy notes on Morton," Mauga announced smugly. 

"How?" 

Mauga smirked. "Never ask me to reveal my sources. If I told you, I'd have to kill you." 

"So what's going on?" Walter demanded, lengthening his stride towards the elevator. It took all his self-control not to ignore hospital regulations and turn his cell-phone back on immediately. 

"Turns out the bastard _was_ murdered." 

Walter came to an abrupt halt. "WHAT?" 

"Despite the extensive mutilation, the pathologist still managed to establish a lividity pattern that indicated Morton was dead _before_ the spiders began to eat his flesh. There wasn't enough blood loss from the bites for them to have been inflicted while he was alive." 

"So he bled out from the neck wound before the spiders attacked," Walter shrugged. 

"Even if you accept that he somehow tripped and fell at exactly the right angle to cut his throat open against the glass, it doesn't explain the small stria on the side of his neck. Morton was strangled by something sharp enough to leave deep, narrow ligature marks that extend slightly beyond the edges of the wound. The best guess is death by piano wire. The killer was smart enough to cover his tracks, but your forensic guys were smarter." 

"Morton had his throat cut to cover up the fact he'd been garrotted?" 

"Exactly." 

"Then Alex was right. There _was_ someone else in that room." 

"Not just 'someone'. A professional hit-man. No one else could have committed such an almost perfect murder. He'd have gotten away with it if the throat wound had been even a fraction wider. This situation's really beginning to smell. Begs the question of whether the kid's involved." 

"What the hell are you suggesting? That Alex killed Morton, then drugged himself and tied himself to the table to give himself an alibi?" Walter snorted rudely. 

"What I'm _suggesting_ , Half-Pint, is that it's highly damned unlikely to be co-incidence that Morton was murdered at the precise moment he had Alex at his mercy. But if Morton was killed to save Alex, that casts a certain amount of suspicion on the kid. Why the hell would a professional killer care about the fate of an FBI cadet if the cadet isn't dirty himself?" 

"Alex isn't a dirty cop," Walter growled. 

"You've really got it bad for the kid, haven't you?" Mauga smirked. "And, for what it's worth, I agree with you. Problem is, unless you can get to the bottom of why someone killed Morton, this isn't going to go away. It's going to hang around the kid's neck like an albatross. He may as well walk away from Quantico now. Anyway, the alternative's maybe even worse." 

Walter frowned for a moment, then cursed loudly as he understood. "If the killer _wasn't_ trying to save Alex, then he's hardly going to be happy that he's left a witness to the murder alive." 

"Which means the kid's fucked either way you look at it," Mauga agreed. "He's either going to be tarred by association with a murderer, or he's lying in that hospital bed with an invisible target on his back. You're going to have to get his ass into a safe house and then try and find out what the hell really happened in that room and why." 

* * *

You're right, Mauga, he isn't safe here," Walter said. "I want to head back over to Quantico and talk to the Dean. He will be able to arrange a safehouse for Alex until we can get this mess sorted out." 

"Good idea," Mauga agreed. "Whoever killed that prick Morton really knows his stuff, and I can't imagine that this is the kind of guy who would want to leave any loose ends hanging, if you know what I mean." 

"I know exactly what you mean." Walter replied. "I'm going to have to get Alex somewhere where he can be protected properly. Look, can you do me a favor and stay here with him until I get back? I'd feel a hell of a lot better if I knew that Alex wasn't left by himself." 

"Sure thing, Half-Pint, I'd be happy to stay and watch over the kid," Mauga replied with a grin. "Don't you worry about a thing." 

"Thanks Mauga, I owe you one." Walter smiled, then pressed the button for the elevator. The doors slid open and he stepped inside. Mauga watched as the doors slid closed again, cutting Walter from view. Then turning, he headed back towards Alex's room. 

* * *

Walter found the Dean in his office. He was going over a couple of files that were sitting on his desk. 

He looked up as Walter entered the room, a troubled look on his face. "I've just received a preliminary report on Dr. Morton's autopsy." He said as Walter pulled up a chair and sat down. 

"That was fast," Walter replied. 

"I told the coroner that I wanted it ASAP," Dean Brown answered. "It seems that Dr Morton's death might not have been as straight forward as it seemed." 

"He was murdered," Walter said flatly. "A professional job by the look of it. It appeared that he had been garroted, probably with a piece of piano wire. Then afterwards, his throat was cut by the aquarium glass to make it look as though it was an accident." 

"Well, it seems that you already have all the information," Dean Brown replied half jokingly, then becoming serious again, he asked. "Tell me, how is Agent Krycek doing?" 

Walter shrugged. "He's still in the hospital, the doctors thought it best to leave him in overnight for observation. But other than shock and the effects of the drug that Morton had used and the bruising in his shoulder joint, he seems fine." 

"The resilience of youth," Dean Brown replied with a smile. Then sitting back in his chair, he gazed over at Walter, his face thoughtful. 

"So, any ideas on who might have wanted Dr. Morton dead?" 

Walter shook his head. "No, not yet, but there is one matter that I need to bring up, Jim. When I spoke to Agent Krycek he told me that he had seen Morton's killer, the trouble was, he had been drugged at the time and didn't get a clear look at him. But the killer must know that he has left a witness alive." 

"So you feel that Agent Krycek is still in danger?" Dean Brown replied. "Hmm, I have to agree with you there. If this was a professional hit, and so far, everything seems to point to it, then he's not going to want to leave a possible witness lying around." 

"And that is why I feel it would be best to move Agent Krycek to a safe location," Walter said. "Until we can find out more about this, I feel that Agent Krycek's life is in grave danger." 

"I can arrange for a safe-house," Dean Brown replied. "That's no problem, however, this would definitely disrupt Agent Krycek's training." 

"I realize that Jim," Walter replied. "And believe me, I wouldn't be suggesting this if I didn't think it was necessary. But I can't see any other way. Agent Krycek is going to need around clock protection until whoever murdered Morton is caught." 

"Wait a moment," Dean Brown said suddenly, his face lighting up. "There actually might be a way of keeping Agent Krycek in a safe location, and still have him be able to attend his classes and training sessions as well." 

"Go on," Walter replied. "I'm listening." 

"Quantico Cemetery." Dean Brown replied. Walter stared at him in disbelief. 

"You want to keep Agent Krycek in a cemetery?" 

"There's an old caretaker's cottage in the grounds, it's rarely used as the caretaker is only there part time. It's been there practically since the cemetery first opened. It's quiet and secluded, but not isolated, and it would be the last place where anyone would think to look. It would be perfect." 

"And Agent Krycek would still be able to attend the academy," Walter replied. "Sounds like just the place we need." 

"During the day, he would be safe enough on the campus grounds," Dean Brown continued. "There's plenty of people around to ensure his safety, but he would need someone to stay with him at night. Walter, would you be willing...?" 

"Of course, I would." Walter replied. "But I don't want the place crawling with cops and security guards Jim, the less attention we attract, the safer I can keep Agent Krycek." 

"Just a couple, and I give you my word, they will be discreet," Dean Brown replied. "And as far as the other cadets are concerned, Alex is staying with a friend." 

"Of course," Walter replied. The last thing they wanted to do now was fuel any more gossip among the other cadets. The situation was bad enough as it was, what with the news of Morton's death already making the rounds of the campus. 

"Good," Dean Brown said briskly. "Then I'll get the ball rolling." 

* * *

"Quite a nice little place you guys picked," Alex observed, peering out of the car window as they passed the neat rows of graves. "Very quiet, peaceful." 

Walter chuckled as he steered the car through the cemetery. "Glad you approve. It was actually chosen because we felt it was the best place to keep you out of sight for a while." 

"Well, I'm just glad to be out of that hospital," Alex replied with a smile. Then his smile faded, to be replaced by a troubled look. Walter saw it, and sighed. It was clear that Alex was still worrying how all this was going to affect his career. 

The cottage was located near the south end of the cemetery. It was small and set well back from the road, the trees and shrubs adding to its air of privacy. 

Walter stopped the car in front of the cottage and the two of them got out. Walter, his senses alert, gazed around the grounds, his sharp eyes missing nothing. The cemetery was quiet at this time of day, there were few people around. 

"Come on," he said as he walked around to back of the car. "Let's get this stuff inside." 

They both carried the boxes of groceries and suitcases up the front steps and onto the low porch. Dipping his hand into the pocket of his suit coat, Walter pulled out a set of keys, and after a moment to find the right one, slid it into the lock and turned it. The door opened and he stepped inside, Alex following. 

The front door opened straight onto a small but cozy looking living room. 

Both Walter and Alex gazed around the room, taking in the solid oak furniture and leather couches. Whoever had furnished the cottage had obviously wanted to give it a masculine but comfortable atmosphere. A large Turkish rug lay against the gleaming parquet floor, woven in rich reds, browns and gold, adding a splash of color to the room. Several oil paintings that hung on the cream walls interspersed with some old framed black and white photographs. But the real work of art was the beautifully carved mahogany mantelpiece that sat over the small but serviceable fireplace. 

"Not bad," Alex remarked as he set the suitcases down. Walter nodded, he had not been sure what to expect, but this place was better than what he could have hoped for. 

* * *

"You have completed your task?" Spender asked as he touched the flame of his silver lighter to the end of his cigarette, inhaling the smoke deep into his lungs. 

"And you made sure that Alex Krycek was unharmed?" 

"Yes, Mr. Spender, everything went according to plan." Luis answered him. "The cadet, Alex Krycek is fine." 

"And the good doctor is no longer a problem," Spender replied. Then leaning back against his chair, smiled. 

"I think that Cadet Krycek will have quite a promising future with us Luis. I have very high hopes for that young man. Very high hopes indeed." 

* * *

After exploring the rest of the cottage, Walter and Alex stored their things away in their respective bedrooms. 

Despite it's diminutive size, they had discovered that the cottage was quite well laid out. The bedrooms, bathroom and kitchen were located at the back of the property and were actually quite roomy. The bathroom was old, boasting a huge antiquated cast iron tub, but the kitchen more than made up for it with a fairly modern stove and refrigerator. There was even a microwave sitting on the counter next to the coffee maker. 

After everything had been put away, Walter decided to call Mauga. Hitting the speed dial on his cell phone, he waited, standing in the middle of the kitchen while the line rang at the other end. 

"Hey there Half-Pint, how's everything going?" Mauga's voice boomed suddenly. "Got the kid squared away all right?" 

"Yes, we are getting settled in," Walter answered. "Any more news on Morton?" 

"No, but I've been doing some poking around," Mauga said. 

"What kind of 'poking around' exactly?" Walter asked. 

"Not the kind that you want to know about," Mauga replied with a chuckle. "Don't worry Half-pint, just leave it with me, you concentrate on looking after Alex." 

"Thanks, Mauga," Walter said warmly. "I will." 

"Good, I'll call you as soon as I find out anything. You both take care now. And Walter...relax, okay?" With that, Mauga hung up. Walter chuckled as he put his cell phone back into the pocket of his coat. Then he decided to put together a late lunch with the cold cuts that he had picked up on the way. 

"Hungry, Alex?" He asked as he set out the loaf of bread and packets of ham, cheese and cold roast beef onto the counter. 

"Yes, thanks." Alex replied as he walked into the kitchen. He watched, leaning against the counter as Walter started putting together the sandwiches. He could not help but marvel at the easy grace of the big man as he moved around the kitchen. 

Aware that Alex was watching him, Walter looked up, a quizzical smile playing about his lips. Suddenly Alex felt his face flush. 

"Uh, you seem to be at home in a kitchen, do you like to cook?" He asked, more to cover his embarrassment at being caught staring. 

"Not really," Walter replied. "I learnt to cook more out of necessity that anything else." 

"Oh." Alex nodded. 

"What about you?" Walter asked as he placed the sandwiches on a plate to carry them over to the kitchen table. "Can you cook?" 

"Not unless you count being able to burn water," Alex replied with a laugh. "I'm hopeless in a kitchen. If it wasn't for takeout, I'd probably starve." 

"Good thing I'm here then." Walter joked. They both sat down at the table, enjoying the food and tall glasses of orange juice that he had poured for them in companionable silence. Walter ate, aware of how close Alex was sitting to him. Suddenly he felt that same strange but now familiar stirring in the pit of his stomach. He half expected to hear his mother's voice to come swooping through his head, screeching at him, accusing him of harbouring evil, unnatural thoughts. But nothing came. Instead there was silence, and a warm comfortable feeling that he had not had in a long time. 

* * *

Alex said, since Walter was going to do the cooking, he should handle the clean up, which amounted to filling the dishwasher, which he could do one-handed. Walter took a glass of soda and settled in the living room on one of the comfortable sofas. He flicked on the TV, flipping channels until he found a program that looked interesting. He felt that warmth again when Alex entered the room to sit next to him. 

Settling next to Walter, Alexprepared to move if Walter seemed uncomfortable. He was pleased when Walter showed no sign of needing more space between them. Walter turned to smile at Alex. 

"I was killing time. Is there anything you want to watch?" 

"I should probably study." 

"Leave it until tomorrow; you've been through a lot. I'll tutor you if you need it." 

Alex grinned, "Thank you, Sir." 

"I think here in private we can use first names. Call me Walter." 

"Okay, Walter. Do we get ESPN?" 

Walter picked up the remote and flipped through the channels. He was surprised to find that the place was wired for cable. The two of them settled in to watch a soccer game. For the next couple of hours the only noise was an occasional rude comment or cheer. 

Walter was surprised when he realized it was time to cook dinner. Alex joined him in the kitchen and offered to peel the potatoes while Walter seared the beef for a stew. 

Walter grinned as Alex began to hum as he worked. It was a nice to be sharing space with someone who was laid back and seemed to enjoy the same things he did. They had just placed the stew on the table when Walter's cell phone rang. 

He looked at the display and then answered. "Mauga, what's going on?" 

"Walter, this isn't looking good for the kid." 

"What is it?" Walter rose from the table and left the room. Not that it did any good since Alex was hot on his heels. 

"The more I find out, the more it looks like Morton was connected to some sort of covert group. If they've taken an interest in this boy, it might be better if he finds a new career." 

"I don't think that's an option." 

"Then you best start preparing him for what is going to be thrown at him. This boy could complicate your life, Walter." 

"He already has." 

"Gotten inside, in such a short time, has he?" 

"Yes." 

"Well, he's certainly pretty and smart. I discovered that when I stayed with him at the hospital. He has that feel." 

"What?" 

"The same feel you have on occasion." 

"What does that mean?" Walter was beginning to get irritated at the smug tone of Mauga's voice. 

"He's got the makings of a damn fine soldier. Somehow, I think he's going to need to be one." 

"Is that all?" 

"For now." 

"Then I think I'll go eat my dinner." 

"Okay, Half-Pint. One last thing." 

Walter sighed, "What is it?" 

"You're under his skin, too. Doing something about that might be the best way to keep him safe from them." 

Walter didn't answer; he closed his phone and placed it on the table. He waited for his mother's voice, but once more, she was silent. 

"Walter?" 

"Let's eat." 

"What did he say?" 

"The man who watched you, the smoker." 

"Yes?" 

"I want you to give me your word that you won't listen to him. No matter what carrots he dangles in front of you." 

"Walter, what is it? Please, just tell me." 

Walter reached out and touched Alex's cheek. "Your word, Alexei, please." 

Alex searched the warm eyes, finding nothing in them but kindness mixed with worry, he gave his answer, freely. 

"My word, Walter. I don't trust that snake anyway." 

Walter chuckled and turned back toward the table. The two men sat to eat, talking about the areas of the FBI Alex found most interesting. After dinner and clean up, Alex took the pain medication that he'd been given for his shuolder. They sat next to each other on the sofa to watch TV. 

Soon, Alex was leaning against Walter as the medication took effect. He slept with his head on Walter's shoulder. Walter was used to later hours and wasn't ready to sleep. He managed to shift the boy so that Alex's head rested in his lap. Walter sat carding his fingers through the dark hair as he listened to the news. 

He'd never really touched another man. Not in the way he was touching Alex. It wasn't sexual, although he did want that. He desperately wanted to know how it would feel to be inside the warm body beside him. 

The news forgotten, he tilted his head back, closed his eyes and pictured Alex's green eyes, dark green as he'd seen them when they'd been wrestling, when they'd both been fighting the primal call of their bodies. It was the color of dense forest, something inviting and dangerous. He could feel his pants tighten; he shifted Alex's head a little, attempting to relieve the external pressure. 

Alex was dreaming of gentle hands combing through his hair. Then he felt something becoming hard against the back of his neck. Smiling, he dreamed of his lover. His mind began to swim upward, knowing that the reality was better than the dream. He opened his eyes and looked up at Walter. 

Walter felt the change in Alex. He straightened and looked down at the bright smile as Alex looked up at him. 

"Um, that feels nice, Walter." 

Still caught in his dream, Alex turned to nuzzle his face against Walter's cock. That organ thought being rubbed was an excellent idea and hardened even more. Alex sighed against him the warmth of his breath penetrating the two layers of clothing between them. 

Walter moaned and tightened his hand in Alex's hair, intending to pull him away, but found himself holding him closer. It felt incredible; he wondered how much better it could be with nothing between them. 

Alex wanted to taste, the scent was overpowering and he sucked in a deep lungful. It was a combination of pre-come, musk and sweat, a smell Alex had long worshiped. He slipped a hand up to pull at Walter's belt. Walter reached out intending to stop him, but found himself opening the buckle. 

Alex lifted enough to get to the button and zipper as Walter pushed the belt out of the way. It didn't take Alex long to free his prize. Walter gasped as Alex's warm mouth wrapped around the head. 

Walter bit his lip, his fingers tangled in Alex's hair. He ignored the tiny voice in the back of his head that was telling him to stop. In his wildest dreams, he never thought that it could feel so wonderful. He moaned as Alex sucked him in deeper. 

Alex hummed against the flesh in his mouth. He'd had more than one fantasy about doing this to Walter. As he continued to suck, he popped the buttons on his jeans and slipped his hand inside to stroke himself. 

Walter might not have been a teen anymore, but he was getting his first blowjob and his body reacted like a fifteen year old. He tightened his hands in Alex's hair, torn between pushing him down onto his dick harder and pulling him off it. 

Alex felt the signs, knew Walter was close. He sucked harder, deep throated and swallowed around the dick in his mouth. Walter bucked up and flooded Alex's throat. Alex tugged on his own cock and came. 

Walter slumped back against the sofa as Alex gave his softening cock one last long lick. Resting his head on Walter's thigh, he panted lightly. Walter continued to card the boy's hair, waiting for that voice to berate him. He slipped into sleep before it came. 

Alex knew when Walter fell asleep. The hand in his hair stilled, as Walter's breathing deepened. Alex slipped out from under the hand to go and clean up, not wanting to fall asleep with drying come in his pants. 

He looked at himself in the bathroom mirror. His face still slightly flushed with his climax, his lips swollen and red. He smiled at his reflection, as his heart soared with hope. Walter was turning out to be everything he'd ever wanted in a man. Strong, built, hung, manly, most of all he had been untouched, something Alex never expected to get in a lover. 

He stripped down, took a quick shower and went into his room to put on sleep pants and a tee. He wandered back into the living room to find Walter stirring. He looked at Alex and then quickly looked away. 

"I'm sorry, Alex. That was wrong; I shouldn't have let that happen." 

Before Alex could reply, Walter was up, across the room. He entered his bedroom, the door shut firmly but not slammed, and then the unmistakable sound of the lock clicking into place. 

Alex sank to his knees and moaned. Fuck! How could he have been so stupid? He wasn't sure what to do. Would it be better to let them both sleep on it, or try to work it out now? His mind scurried round in circles. 

Scrambling to his feet, he went in search of the jeans he'd left in the bathroom. Pawing through the pockets, he found the card. Going back into the kitchen, he picked up the phone and dialed the number. 

A hearty, "Hello," greeted him from the other end. 

"It's Alex, Mauga, you said I could call." 

"What's he done?" 

"I did it. I pushed." 

"Where is he?" 

"Locked in his bedroom." 

"How hard did you push?" 

Alex could feel the blush creeping up his face. "Alex?" 

"Obviously, too hard." 

"Did you at least have fun before he shut you out?" 

"Yeah." The blush was fire hot but Alex was also sporting a small grin. 

"He have his cell phone in the cloister with him?" 

Alex chuckled at the tone, Mauga sounded a bit like a father who was aggravated with his son. "I think so." 

"Alright, I'm going to call him. He's stubborn, and he's got some walls to tear down. He'll be worth waiting for, remember that." 

"Thanks, Mauga." 

* * *

The door seemed more like a fortress wall to Alex. He spent a useless moment or two staring at it then got out his cell phone to call Murphy. He really needed a friend right now even if he couldn't tell her what had happened. 

"Hey, sweetie, are you okay?" Murphy's voice said into his ear. 

"I'm fine," Alex replied. "Just needed to hear a friendly voice." 

"You sound down," Murphy said. "Are you sick or did something happen?" 

"Probably the pain pill," Alex said. "I took it earlier and it made me crash. Now I feel tired, but I want to study." 

"You should probably just take it easy," Murphy said. "Admit it. You're three chapters ahead in every subject, aren't you?" 

"I'm ahead in most subjects," Alex said. "But you know how important it is for me to do well. I'm young and I don't have the experience to bring with me as a recommendation. I'd really like to be posted to DC, and my youth isn't on my side, so I have to have the smarts and grades to back it up." 

"You want to be close to...close to that dream, don't you?" Murphy said. "Alex, I'm not sure if this is healthy for you. That person you're obsessing over...I've heard a few things. Super religious background in the family. The one you want may not ever be able to accept what you have to offer." 

It took Alex a moment to realize that Murphy was being careful not to discuss the gender of Alex's love object. She was a smart woman; cell phones were not always the most secure way to have a conversation. 

"Hey, they dragged Agent Scully back from wherever she ran off to with her former partner," Murphy said. "She was stomping around the lab, swearing up and down about Morton. I took notes for you, but the class was mostly review. I don't think Scully believes that Morton had his mind on educating students." 

"Good about the review," Alex said. "I'm anxious to get back to class, get back into my life. Hey, what are the other students saying about me?" 

"Not much," Murphy said. "Someone started a rumor that Morton was a drug czar and you stumbled upon him making a deal. Now everyone thinks you were kidnapped to silence you." 

"That's a great rumor," Alex said. "I wonder if the person who started it has a name that starts with M?" 

"Just maybe," Murphy said. "Are you safe?" 

"A.D. Skinner's personally looking after me," Alex replied. "I'm near enough so I can get to class tomorrow." 

"I'll see you then," Murphy said. "Maybe we can have lunch together?" 

"Yeah, Skinner's going to keep an eye on me and some bud of his, but other than that, I can get back to my life," Alex replied. "Guess I should let you go. Let you get some sleep." 

"Okay," Murphy said. "You just be careful, Alex. I have a sneaky feeling this isn't over." 

"Yeah, I'll be careful," Alex said. "Night, sis." 

* * *

Walter's cell phone buzzed incessantly until he turned it off. He did not want to talk to Mauga right now. He wasn't sure what he wanted to do, although he seriously considered climbing out the window so he did not have to face Alex. 

This was ridiculous; how in the hell did he expect to protect Alex from in here. Yet even with that concern, he was riddled with shame and couldn't face Alex. Surprisingly when Walter made himself admit the truth, he realized he was more ashamed of the way he had reacted than he was of what he had done. Alex Krycek had not forced him to accept that...the blowjob, he supposed he should call it that although in retrospect, it seemed more like a glimpse of paradise. 

Having marched in this bedroom without detouring to the bathroom, Walter could still smell the scent of sex on himself. It didn't make him feel any guiltier; it made him horny. He could feel a distinct throb from his cock. The damn thing wasn't going to retreat into silence easily now that it had a taste of what he had denied it for years. 

Oh shit, Walter thought scornfully of himself. Hell of a deal to start thinking of his cock as a separate, demanding entity. It hadn't been his cock that had caressed Alex's soft hair nor his cock that held him still once Alex unzipped him and gave him what they obviously both wanted. 

At the least, Walter should have thanked Alex instead of running away and hiding. He was a coward. He needed to face what he was. A homosexual. The kind of person his mother had always covertly warned him about when he was a kid. However, Walter couldn't find any sudden urges to run after teenage boys. The only person he desired was sitting out there in the living room, probably cursing his name. 

Tired of his irresponsible actions, Walter grabbed some clothing and headed back out to the main living area. He saw Alex sitting at the small table, his head bent over one of his text books. Walter said, "I'm going to grab a shower. We need to talk." 

It must have come off as a threat as Alex's eyes widened before he nodded, biting at his full, soft lips. Pausing, Walter said, "Alex, you didn't do anything wrong. It was all my fault." 

That must still have been the wrong thing to say. Alex shot him a pissed off look before he nodded and turned his attention back to the book. 

* * *

All his fault? Damn the man, Alex thought. One of his first lovers had warned him about doing it with guys who thought they were straight. Everything was fine, his lover had said, as long as their cock is in your ass or mouth. The minute they come, that was something else. Angelo told Alex that seducing straight guys was high risk. You could get beat up, accused of rape, or blackmailed. Up to now, Alex had been careful of straight men, other than David, and old lover who had made the first moves and had been kind even after he had what he wanted. 

Walter probably wouldn't beat him up nor would he blackmail Alex, but it hurt. Damn it, if Alex had been after nothing but a lay, it would have been easy enough to find one that was risk free. Angelo was also the one that told Alex that gay guys don't fall in love. Good luck on that one. Alex had been half in love with Angelo. If David hadn't hoped for that career in politics, he might still be with him. Now, he had to fall for Walter, the last person in the world that he should be serious about. 

Reading the same paragraph over again, his head aching and his heart hurting worse, Alex tried to force himself to wall away his feelings. He heard the shower stop and somewhat later the door open. He could hear the rustle of clothing and the fall of Walter's foot steps. 

"I'm going to check the perimeters," Walter said. "Then I want to talk to you." 

The bastard was probably going to encourage him to get out of the FBI academy. Walter might even think that Alex led Morton on. Wouldn't that be great? The worst day in Alex's life to date and if Walter threw that creepy Morton's fascination with him in his face, Alex wasn't sure if he could control himself. 

* * *

"Everything looks good," Walter said to Alex's scowling face. He couldn't blame Alex for feeling the way he obviously did. As ignorant as Walter was about relationships, he knew he had screwed up royally. 

"Yeah, I'm in no danger from out there," Alex said. "What's the big deal? Morton's dead. That guy I saw . . . if he was going to kill me, why not do it while I was helpless? I think I should just go back to my room at Quantico. Get the hell out of here and let you go back to your life." 

"I'm going to make some coffee," Walter said. "You want some?" 

"No," Alex snarled, slamming his book closed. "I want you to tell me what the final score is. Are you going to hold what happened against me?" 

"I'm sorry," Walter said, "Not for what happened, but for how I reacted." 

"Is this where you tell me you're not gay?" Alex asked. "That you didn't know who was doing it to you? You thought I was some woman?" 

"No, I'm not much of a liar," Walter replied. "Not even to myself. I knew it was you. Wouldn't have responded to anyone else like I did. I'm the last person you want in your life, Alex. I can't make you happy or even satisfy you. I wish I could." 

"I don't understand," Alex said. 

"I'm not sure if I can even talk about this," Walter said. 

* * *

"I think that Cadet Krycek will have quite a promising future with us, Luis. I have very high hopes for that young man. Very high hopes indeed." 

"Sure, boss," Luis replied, but his mind was racing. If the kid didn't turn over for boss man soon, Luis was going to have to do something. Spender always thought he was so fucking smart, always setting up these complicated schemes. Dead was dead. One bullet, two if you gotta waste the money, and your troubles were over. That was something Luis had learned long ago on the mean streets of Nicaragua. You either eat meat or you are meat. Luis Cardinal wasn't anyone's meat. 

"You want me for anything else?" Luis asked. "Thought I'd take down time." 

"No, I'll call if I need you," Spender replied, with a dismissive wave of his hand. 

Fucking bastard, thinks he's a patron, Luis thought. He's trash just like the rest of them. Someday, when Luis found a way to get on the inside, he was going to shoot all these old assholes with their fucked up ideas. All he wanted was enough money...Go back to Nicaragua and live like a grandee, make a little money growing cocaine. Marry some society bitch and make some kids. Forget about all this shit about aliens and destiny. Lotta crap that was. 

Meanwhile, Luis was going to check on the green eyed kid. See what the score was. If Krycek remembered seeing him, the guy would have to have an accident, fuck what the boss said. Luis wasn't going down for anyone. He knew what prison meant to someone like him. He had done a few jobs like that himself when someone got careless. Get in. Make it look like a suicide or arrange for one of the other inmates to have a shiv. The Smoking Man was willing to risk Cardinal's life, but Luis was not. 

* * *

Luis was no dummy. He was a master of his trade, just not a big talker or a braggart. He had watched Krycek enough for Spender to know who the guy's friends were. The big broad, Murphy, tough chica...Luis wouldn't have minded taking the bitch down a notch or two. She was just a puta like the rest of them. Fondling his favorite razorback knife, Luis spent an idle moment dreaming about cutting the bitch's mannish clothing off her big body, making her bleed, making her scream for him. 

The day dream had just reached the good part, Luis fucking the bitch with his Ayoob knife when his mobile phone tapping program paid off with a telltale light. Luis was all business as he traced the call. You couldn't get precise with these things, but you could tell how near the call was. 

So Krycek was under protection? That wasn't good. However if Skinner was with him, Luis had that cell phone frequency too. Spender had a permanent hard on for the AD. Skinner ticked him off; always finding some way to support that fucking lunatic Mulder. Skinner was under twenty four hour surveillance and his life was an open book to the Project. Luis danced around with a couple ideas... 

Knowing about Skinner's sexual problems...the bald man couldn't get it up even for his wife, Luis figured out a way that he could get Krycek without getting the boss on his case. He could make it look like the maricon made a move on the whacked out AD. Skinner wigged out, killed the little bastard, and then offed himself, unwilling to face the consequences. 

Maybe, Luis thought to himself. Maybe he would give the maricon one last thrill before he died. After all, some evidence would be good, like Skinner's cum up Krycek's ass. Skinner might have a problem getting it up, but Luis has a little chemical help for him. 

Luis Cardinal, you are one smart hombre, Luis said to himself. 

Swiftly setting his equipment to scan for Skinner's phone, Luis shelved his plans for Murphy for the night. He could go after the puta later to celebrate. He needed a product developed by a friend of his, a little drug that lowered inhibitions without causing blood pressure to fall, much more useful for a male subject than roofies. Even if an autopsy detected the drug later, it wasn't a problem. They would assume that Krycek gave Skinner the drug. 

The frequency for Skinner's phone kept coming up although he didn't answer it for some reason. Whoever was calling him had some kind of advanced blocking on his phone. Luis couldn't get the number or trace the call, but it was enough to help lead him toward Krycek's hiding place. 

An hour later, Luis saw Skinner's phone was being called again. He followed the trace, ready for his unauthorized project. Spender was going to shit his pants over this, but he would never trace it to Luis. He wouldn't even suspect. After all, Luis was just his hired gun. Spender always said that Luis was brutal, unimaginative, and obedient. His prejudice wouldn't allow him to see past Luis's brown skin and accent. He saw a peon and that's what he got. 

This was going to be fun, Luis thought. He didn't usually get it up for maricon action, but the idea of making Skinner fuck the green eyed agent in front of him did it for Luis. Sometimes you can mix business with pleasure. 

* * *

"What can't you talk about?" Alex asked, thoroughly puzzled. 

Walter stood and walked to the kitchen to pull out the bottle of scotch he'd seen earlier. He poured some in a glass, dropped an ice cube and took a sip. "Would you like one?" he asked Alex. 

"No, thanks. I only drink on social occasions. I don't use it as a crutch." 

Pow! That hurt, Walter thought. "I only use it for courage in times when I have to flay myself before people I care about." 

"What the hell does that mean?" Alex asked. He stood from the couch where he sat and walked to the hearth that roared with the fire Walter had built. "I mean, you say you care for me, but that we have no chance. Then, you wrangle us to live here together, but it has to stay innocent. I fall out from my meds, you put my head in your lap. You fully enjoy the blowjob I gave you, then stomp off without a word of thanks or condemnation. I don't...I'm sorry, I just don't understand you. And even if we have no chance of anything, you owe me an explanation." 

"Does your mother love you?" came the soft question from the big man across the room. 

"Excuse me?" Alex asked. This was getting bizarre. 

"Do you know if your mother loves you?" Walter asked again. 

"OK, I'll go with this. Yes, my mother loves me." 

"Do you know that for sure?" Walter asked. 

"Oh, I see where this is going. Yeah, I came out to her, and even though we keep it in the immediate family, yes, she knows I'm gay and she loves me just as much as she always has. I guess your mom had an adverse reaction." 

"My mother is difficult to explain. My father also died when I was young. I was about twelve when he suffered a massive heart attack and died at his office. He was a very important man, finance banking. Back in the early sixties though, we never thought about smoking and red meat and exercise. My father was a big man, but not grossly obese as we would think he would be today. And he just...grabbed the picture of my mother and me from his desk and slipped away silently. My mother did not take it well." 

Walter stood again, walking to the counter where he'd left the bottle. He poured more scotch, got another ice cube. "Fill the fucking glass and finish your story," Alex said. Walter thought the boy was trying not to sound impatient, trying to be coaxing. Something you learned as time went on, patience. Impetuous youth, Walter thought. How he missed those innocent years. 

"I'm sorry, you're right." Walter strolled back over to the easy chair, but sat on the ottoman, closer to Alex, but still with the coffee table between them. "Well, we were financially secure, my father planned well, lots of insurance and investments. He left me his classic car, a 1964 Chevy Corvair. I still have it, tarped and on blocks in my shed in the back of my house. One day I'll restore it. But...my mother did not take his death well. It was so unexpected. I begged for a sister or brother for years, but it never happened. They...enjoyed trying, at least my dad did, since he begged her to fulfill my wish every night. I could hear everything through the walls, and I tried to block it out best I could at the time. Mother felt that since they lived such a 'wanton and lustful' life together, she'd sinned and God punished her. They really enjoyed each other, no matter my father's size. And since I asked for the sibling, it was my fault that he died." 

Another sip to steady his nerves, Walter felt like he was stalling. "My mother, Zvetlana, but friends just called her Lana, was Russian Orthodox and very lax while I was growing up. My father was raised Irish Catholic. She dove back in head first and took me with her. Oh, God, everything she didn't like she beat the hell out of me for. With my father's old belt, to boot. She'd caught me looking at National Geographic..." 

Alex snickered at that. Walter looked up, remembering the age difference and smiled. "Well, getting a Playboy was difficult in 1965. Boys were much more resourceful. God, she once caught me masturbating to James Dean. I wanted to die, and she almost succeeded...Well, anyway, she beat it into me that 'pleasures of the flesh' were wrong. I went to Vietnam and came back a virgin, which is...phenomenal, I'm told. Well, I've been to the brothels there, but I usually ended up passed out in the opium room. Even when I married Sharon, I just could not..." 

"Perform?" Alex asked. The look on his face seemed open and caring, not pitying. 

"Yes, exactly. Sharon was patient at first. Oh, she was raised the same way. But even after a few years of marriage, and a new priest at the church we attended, in Philadelphia where I was assigned in my first FBI post, she was encouraged to be fruitful with her husband. I couldn't...I kept hearing her voice." 

"In your head? Like Norman Bates?" 

"You see 'Carrie'? My mother reminded me of Margaret White. Fanatical. She's been gone a while now. I do miss her. She was ill the last years of her life. The nuns of our church back in Cleveland cared for her. And I was there when she died, holding her hand. Her voice followed me, in my head...until you came. You stopped her. You...I don't..." 

"I didn't do that, sir. You did." 

"Walter." 

"Walter, I didn't have anything to do with that. That was all you. We didn't even...broach the subject until a few days ago. I mean, this has next to nothing to do with me." 

"On the contrary, Alex. It has everything to do with you. The things my mother told me about being homosexual, the desires to have sex with children and animals, visions of Satan and just the most horrible things, none of that has happened to me. All I...seem to want...is you. I just..." 

"What?" 

Walter looked away, taking a last sip of scotch. "I've never done it before. None of it. I've kissed a little, girls in high school, my wife some at the beginning of our marriage...I've...that blowjob was the furthest I've ever gone sexually. I'm so sorry, I just..." 

"It's OK," Alex said, getting up and going over to where Walter sat. He knelt before the man and gently stroked his cheek. "I understand. It's fine. I...we'll take it slowly. You and I, we'll discover your sexuality together. OK?" 

Walter smiled widely. "Thank you for understanding. I...how the hell is this possible? I'm your instructor, your superior in your pending-agent situation, we shouldn't be doing..." 

Walter was silenced by Alex's mouth coming down on his. The young man kissed him gently, but insistently, pressing his tongue into Walter's mouth. It was a strong kiss, nothing delicate, like kissing a woman. Two strong hands held Walter's face, allowing Alex access to all of Walter's mouth. Alex tasted strong and spicy, smelled like wood and musk. Even at his age, even after having already spent himself that night, Walter felt himself getting hard again. He pulled back and smiled into Alex's shining eyes. 

"Oh, Alex...I..." 

"Shhhhh" Alex said, putting his finger over Walter's lips. "I suggest we take turns in the bathroom and go to bed, before we get to a place where one of us may make a move the other might not like, OK?" 

Walter just nodded dumbly. Alex rose, the crotch of his jeans, tight with his erection, right near Walter's face. "I'm going to get my pajamas, shower and go to bed. Can you wait until I'm done?" 

Walter just nodded dumbly and watched the sultry ass sway toward the bedroom. He began poking down the fire, back to the room, so he wouldn't see Alex saunter into the bathroom. He just left his glass in the sink, not wanting to run the water and risk Alex getting scalded or frozen. He just hid behind his bedroom door until he heard Alex go back to his bedroom. That signaled Walter to make his way quickly through washing up, brushing his teeth and going back to his bedroom. He was too keyed up to sleep, so he stayed up a while, preparing his lesson plans for the next day. 

* * *

Alex lay in his bed, staring at the ceiling. It was much more comfortable than the bed in his dorm, but he was in such good physical condition, the state of the mattress was almost irrelevant. He watched the spots of moonlight play tag on the walls through the leaves of the trees outside. He'd studied for about an hour, then when he saw the time was two in the morning, he knew he needed some sleep. He tried for a while to just lay there with his eyes closed, but it didn't work. Only one thing would work. 

Thinking back to his evening, the pleasant warmth of laying on Skinner's lap flooded his mind, and his loins. He felt his cock hardening and reached down to untie his sweatpants. He pulled down the front enough to take his hard cock in his hand and stroke it, while thinking of the huge cock he'd had down his throat earlier that evening. The smell and taste of the man, of Walter Skinner, took Alex from the room he was in, in that bed alone, took him back to the couch where he produced the most delicious sounds from a man who'd never been intimate with anyone before. 

He moved his hand faster on his cock, panting but trying to keep his voice down. He didn't want Walter to hear him as he thought about that massive cock in his ass, thrusting and pounding into his body, two big hands holding his hips, pulling him back as the head hit his prostate, sending him on sky rockets to explode into a million particles of light... 

Alex panted and laughed at the semen covering his hand. He licked it off, thinking of the man who's semen he'd swallowed earlier in the night, and finally fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. 

In the morning, Walter was up early, dressed and made coffee. "You want anything for breakfast, Alex?" he asked the sleepy young man who just wandered to the bathroom. When he came out, he didn't even acknowledge Walter, just went to his room to dress. He should not have stayed up so late to study. When he was dressed and had made his bed, he walked out and went to the kitchen. Walter was sitting at the table, sipping his coffee. 

"Sorry, didn't mean to be so surly. I was...just...I didn't sleep a whole lot. Uh...what's for breakfast?" He smiled at Walter and went to pour himself coffee. 

"I made myself some eggs and toast. There's more, but you'll have to cook. There's cereal, too." Alex just nodded and poured himself a bowl of Corn Flakes and tried to eat them quickly. The clock was ticking closer and closer to seven-thirty, and the first class was at eight. The car arrived at seven-forty and took them both to the main building on campus to their classroom. Walter preceded Alex into the room, and a guard was posted to the door outside. 

"Ladies and gentlemen, I hope you've all visited the little boys' and girls' room today. The guard posted will not let anyone in or out of the room until class is over. Now, onto Chain of Custody..." 

Alex saw the few curious stares thrown at him and just brushed them off. He'd have to just keep his mouth shut, not tell anyone anything. That didn't sound like any fun, as he wanted to weave a terrible tale of intrigue and guile, narrow escapes and brushes with death. Essentially, he wanted to tell the truth. He also knew that Walter wouldn't be able to contain the leakage of information and it could damage the investigation. One of Walter's first rules in his class was, "Treat everything as classified until told otherwise." He would have to do the same. Murphy noticed his discomfort, reached over to his desk and covered his hand with hers. Alex squeezed back and smiled at her. 

When they broke for lunch, Alex was accompanied by two officers to the cafeteria where he sat with his classmates to eat. Murphy sat next to him of course, not letting anyone get in a word about what had happened. There were eager questions, jokes about the "South American drug czar" that had caught Alex flirting with his daughter and wanted to teach him a lesson. Internally, Alex sighed with relief. 'Two secrets handled' he thought to himself. In the end, he just held up his hand to quiet the questions and said, "Remember, everything is classified until we're told otherwise. Well, apparently, this is classified. I'm not even aware of a lot that's going on. So...let it go, guys, OK?" 

This contented the other classmates. By the end of the day, after the vigorous self-defense demonstrations that Walter put them through, using Alex as a subject, and finding that the young man had listened and managed to not only get out of several holds Walter put him into, but turn the tables and get the bigger man down to the mat. Walter openly praised Alex for listening to the instructions given. 

At the end of the day, Alex was happy to go back to the cottage with Walter. He was beat and just wanted to rest and study. He wasn't prepared to see the gigantic man that sat on the couch, feet up on the coffee table, reading a V.C. Andrews novel about young teen girls running away. "Uh...hey, dude," was all Alex could manage. 

* * *

"Mau!" Walter said, walking in and shaking the man's hand. 

"You know, Half-Pint, I never saw you so much in your life since you got back from in country as I have these last two weeks. Just wanted to stick my head in for my own comfort to see how you were doing. How ya been, Alex?" 

Mauga stood and shook Alex's hand, but it looked more to Walter like he was shaking Alex's whole right side. Alex pulled away and rubbed his shoulder a bit. Walter fought to hide his amusement. 

"So, I got away for the evening, have some Italian take out in the kitchen, and we need to talk, brother. Remember when I said bad juju? Well, I had a phone call for a meeting with my superior officer, and I'm probably going to hear about those searches I did." 

"Ah, brother, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get you into trouble..." Walter started. 

Mauga held his hand up and stopped him. "Don't you worry. I can handle that. The only problem is, I can't do any more research on this for you. I gotta walk away." 

"What?" Walter said, his ire coming up. "You can't just stop, we need to find the people who started this! What the hell..." 

"Hey! Half-Pint, don't yell at my bird," Mauga said and the two men laughed. Alex gave them a puzzled look. "Sorry, Alex. Walter thinks that just because I'm a colonel in the military, I can just do as I please, but my eagle insignia only goes so far. And the lance corporal should remember the time I..." 

"Didn't you say you had Italian food waiting for us?" Walter broke in, walking towards the kitchen. 

"That's my Half-Pint. The only Marine that traveled on his stomach." 

"After you took me drinking, sometimes, that was literally!" 

* * *

Luis prided himself on being a professional. 

Not that the old bastards he worked for appreciated his dedication to detail. As far as they were concerned he was just a stupid peon, who shot first and never bothered to ask questions later. What they didn't realise was that he _always_ asked questions of what he was doing, if not necessarily the questions another man might ask. 

He never cared about the identity of his victims, nor their apparent `crime' in the eyes of the Smoking Man and his cronies. But he always asked himself what was in it for _him_. Mainly it was money. The money to go back to Nicaragua and start his dream of being a small-time drug-dealer and a big-time success. His current bank account, though small by American standards, would _already_ mark him as a player back home. 

Just a few more hits, a few more thousand deposited in his account, and he'd be gone. 

He could already feel the heat of some society bitch's mouth sucking him off as she knelt at his feet and worshipped the powerful persona of the new, improved, _rich_ Luis Cardinale . 

And the only thing that stood between him and that bright, shining future was the maricon. 

In the last 24 hours, he'd ceased adding the addendum `if he saw my face'. Having taken so many steps along the path to Krycek's demise, he wasn't going to pull out now. His professional pride demanded that he couldn't put so much work into a hit and then simply walk away from it. 

Fuck the smoking man. Luis Cardinale was going to bag himself some maricon ass. 

By triangulating the signals from Skinner and Krycek's cell-phones, he'd traced the two men to their `safe house'. The term amused him, considering how very unsafe the house would truly prove to be for his intended victims. 

He wasn't sure whether it was proof of FBI incompetence or simply the arrogance of Skinner that no guards nor perimeter alarms guarded the caretaker's house. There wasn't even a drive-by patrol. Luis knew this, because he'd spent the whole of the previous night lying behind the protection of some gravestones and watching the house through infra-red binoculars. 

He'd been _tempted_ to enter the house then, knowing Krycek and Skinner were alone and asleep. The drug vial in his inner-jacket pocket had felt like a burning heat against his flesh as he'd lain there in the freezing graveyard knowing he was just a few hundred yards away from the men he'd use it upon. 

But he hadn't survived as long as he had by being impetuous. 

For one thing, he knew the longer he left it before he made his assault, the less guarded Skinner and Krycek would be against him. It was good to foster a sense of safety in his targets. Let the stupid bastards believe in their `safe house' and so relax their guard. 

For another thing, just because there had been no patrol at midnight didn't mean no patrol at One. At One, he told himself there _might_ be a patrol at Two. And so the entire night had passed without him moving from his hiding place. 

A less `professional' man might have cursed the missed opportunity. But he, Luis Cardinale, simply chalked the experience up to a demonstration of his own self-control. The important thing was that he was now sure that Krycek and Skinner weren't being guarded in any fashion. 

He'd followed them, from a distance, the next morning. He'd stayed with them until he was sure they were simply resuming the normal daily activites of Quantico, and then he'd returned to their house. 

It had been a simple act to let himself into the dwelling and wander through its rooms until he had a clear blueprint of the place in his head. In the dark, he needed to be able to move with the surety and quietness of a cat if he was to catch the sleeping men by surprise. It was crucial that he learned the house's layout like the back of his hand. 

He'd tested each step on the staircase for giveaway creaks. He'd checked all the drawers and closets, looking for anything that might be used as an impromptu weapon against him if one of his intended victims managed to escape his immediate clutches. He'd opened all the windows slightly, then closed them again after sealing their frames with a layer of industrial strength superglue, giving the windows the appearance of having been painted shut years ago. If Krycek or Skinner _did_ evade him, they'd now have to noisily break a window to exit. In such a remote location, the noise wouldn't alert passers- by but it would alert _him_ of the escape attempt. 

Not that he expected either man to have the opportunity to attempt escape, but Luis prided himself on covering all bases. 

He'd checked both the main floor and basement in the hope of finding an adequate hideaway for himself. He knew it would be easier to launch a sneak attack if he were already in place before the men returned. But there was no suitable location, since the basement was almost bare except for a small rack of wine - which he could imagine the men choosing to raid before bedtime - and the entrance to the crawlspace attic was a tiny door high up in the ceiling of the back hallway. It would require a ladder to enter and exit the door and that would inevitably create too much noise. 

Before he left the house, he did two further things. 

He used a hyperdermic needle to inject liquid flurazepam into the opened bottle of whiskey on the kitchen table. The dose wasn't large, since he'd have little fun with the men if Skinner was unconscious when he took the pair captive, but the dose was enough that a drink of the liquid would ensure Skinner slept heavier than normal and woke feeling confused and light-headed. 

He knew it would probably only be Skinner who drank the whiskey, since his files indicated that Krycek wasn't a whiskey-drinker, but that was all part of his plan. For one thing, he couldn't imagine having any problem subduing the maricon but was considerably more wary of the bigger man. 

For another, his friend had provided the ruffie-like drug in an injectable form and so he had to find a way to make it believable that Krycek had managed to inject the far stronger Skinner without his consent. 

So the second thing Luis did was to slip a small unmarked brown bottle of prescription-sized flurazepam tablets into the rear of the bathroom cabinet. If an autopsy revealed the presence of the sleeping potion, it would be necessary that the investigation into the men's deaths provided a reasonable source of the drug. Luis would remove and replace the whiskey bottle before leaving the house that night. 

It would appear to the investigators that Krycek had deliberately put Skinner into a stupor so that he could be injected easily with the sex drug. 

It had been almost mid-day before Luis had left the house and he'd passed several people in the graveyard as he'd returned to his parked car. Not one of them had given him a second glance. His clothing had marked him as a physical laborer, the shovel in his hand had given him a reason to be in the graveyard, and the color of his skin and their prejudice had let him pass invisibly past them as just an illegal immigrant working as a grave-digger. 

Stupid assholes. 

As much as he hated the arrogance of Americans, Luis often found it beneficial in his profession that he could pass so easily as one of society's invisibles. He could enter the most high-security building under the guise of a cleaner or repairman and rarely receive even a first glance, let alone a second. 

So right under the eyes of the FBI, Luis had sauntered out of the Quantico graveyard and had known his presence hadn't been noted. 

He'd spent that afternoon working on a water-tight alibi. 

Perhaps the police and FBI might believe the scenario he intended to create but Luis knew the Smoking Man and his associates would be automatically suspicious. It was the nature of deceitful men to always assume an equal amount of deceit in others. 

So Luis drove over two hundred miles, booked himself into a motel, parked his car in the view of the motel's security cameras, and used one of his `company' credit cards to pay the room bill. Furthermore, he set up one of the motel cleaners - a Mexican illegal - to pretend to be him for the night. Weaving a tale of woe, in which he implied he was having problems with immigration service and had only 24 hours to cover up the details of his illegal working, he persuaded the cleaner to go out on the town and have a meal and a thorough night's entertainment on his credit card. 

The man took little persuasion and was clearly so terrified of the Immigration Service himself that Luis was satisfied he wouldn't admit his part in the deception to anyone who came to investigate the alibi. 

Then using another identity, one that the Smoking Man wasn't aware of, Luis hired a car and drove back to Quantico. 

The lights were already on in the caretaker's house, indicating that Skinner and Krycek had returned home. Because they'd pulled the shades, Luis couldn't see inside the house to check on what they were doing, but he was sure they were already preparing for bed because a light turned off and on a couple of times in the upstairs bathroom. 

He lay down in the graveyard and settled himself in to wait at least an hour or two later than all the house-lights were finally extinguished. 

* * *

Mauga shook his head in mock sorrow as Walter refused his offer of wine and reached instead for a generous measure of whiskey. 

He refilled both his and Alex's glasses, sighed dramatically and winked in Alex's direction. "I bring the best Italian food for miles, we find a whole rack of Chianti lurking in the basement, and he _still_ drinks his damned whiskey. You can take the boy out of the boondocks, but you can't take the boondocks out of the boy. I swear, Alex, you'd think after our nights in `nam he'd puke green slime at just the _thought_ of whiskey. Did I tell you about the time...." 

As Mauga told Alex yet another tale of Walter's mis-spent youth, Walter alternated between groaning, blushing, swearing he'd never be able to look Alex in the face again and roaring with laughter at the memories Mauga's tales evoked. 

"Damn, I'm feeling tired," Walter said eventually. "I could sleep for a week. Must be the last few days catching up with me." 

"Well," Mauga sighed, checking his watch. "It _is_ late. It's been fun, Half-Pint, but I guess I should get going." 

"Stay the night," Alex suggested. "You shouldn't drive after drinking so much anyway," he added, his tone more than slightly accusatory. 

"Damned law enforcement types," Mauga laughed. "I suppose if I _did_ try and get in my car you'd try to arrest me. Though you'd probably just trip over your own feet in the attempt. I seem to recall _you_ downing at least one of those bottles by yourself." 

"But I'm not driving," Alex pointed out virtuously. 

"Don't worry about it, kid. I once drank three times as much as this and still got off my ass and flew a bird. Remember that, Half-Pint?" 

"I remember you getting back from that mission, climbing out of the cock-pit, dropping to your knees and puking all over the Captain's boots," Walter chuckled sleepily. "Stay the night, Mauga. Please? I really am tired and I'd feel better if you were here for Alex's sake." 

"Typical," Mauga groaned. "The Walter Skinner guilt-trip ploy." 

"So you'll stay?" Alex demanded. 

"What the hell. Why not? But _you_ get the couch, kid." 

* * *

Both Mauga and Walter headed upstairs to their respective rooms. The flurazpem had already begun to take effect and Walter had started to feel a little dizzy. How much did I have to drink? he wondered as he flopped down onto the quilt, too tired to even undress. Damn but I feel...sleep overcame him before he was even able to finish the thought. In the next room, Mauga stripped down to his shorts, getting ready for bed. The rich food and wine was already having its own soporific effect. Yawning, he turned off the bedside lamp and climbed into bed and before long, his snores were reverberating around the room. 

Downstairs, Alex was lying on the couch, it was not as comfortable as the bed in the other room, but at least it was long enough for him to be able to stretch out on. Unlike Walter and Mauga though, sleep was proving to be elusive. Closing his eyes, all he could think about was Walter. The shape of his face, the way his eyes crinkled around the edges when he smiled. Alex sighed, opening his eyes once more, it was no good, there was no way he was going to be able to get any sleep tonight. Not while his thoughts were filled with the man he was craving so badly. 

Outside, Luis crouched in the bushes, watching the cottage from his hiding place. One by one the lights went out and the cottage soon settled into silence. 

Luis decided to wait another half hour just to be sure that everyone was asleep inside. Then it would be a simple matter of letting himself into the cottage and cut their sleeping throats. Then, he Luis Cardinal, would be a very rich man indeed. All those high riding society bitches would be lining up to fuck him, and all those men in their expensive suits and cigars would be calling him 'Sir'. Oh yes, Luis Cardinal was heading for big things all right. At last he would finally command the respect that he deserved. It was a shame he couldn't neatly tie up the ends the way he planned, but he was guaranteed to be paid no matter how he did the job. 

Finally satisfied that everyone inside was sleeping, he slid out of the covering shadows of the bushes and headed towards the cottage. The front door yielded to his expert lock picking skills and he let himself inside. 

Alex froze as he heard the sound of the front door opening. Slowly he turned his head, but it was no good, his vision was blocked by the back of the couch. Which was also what prevented Luis from seeing Alex straight away. 

With his heart hammering in his chest, Alex listened to the stealthy movements as Luis crossed the room, heading for the staircase. Then as quietly as he could manage, Alex moved off the couch, crouching low to keep from being detected. 

A thin shark-like smile crossed Luis's face as he placed one foot on the stair riser. Soon the maricon and his friends would be dead and he would be far away from here, another job successfully completed. When suddenly a tiny noise caught his attention. There was someone behind him. With his senses kicking into high gear, Luis spun around, only to be knocked back by a hard fist connecting with his jaw. 

Surprised more than stunned, Luis recovered enough to pull a long bladed knife out of it's ankle sheath. The metal gleamed dully in the darkened room. Alex halted his charge, his fists still up in the classic boxing pose that Walter had taught him. He stared first at the knife, then at Luis, his green eyes suddenly darkening with recognition. 

This was the man that killed Morton, he was certain of it. 

Luis grinned as he brandished the knife under Alex's nose. "Come on maricon, let's see what you are made of then, huh." 

Then suddenly he lunged, the knife sweeping towards Alex's abdomen, missing it by mere inches as Alex leapt back. Luis's grin widened. 

"You're quick boy, but not quick enough." Another lunge, this time the point of the blade catching Alex's upper arm, parting the flesh. Alex felt the sting of blood as it dripped down his arm. 

"Oh come on little one, you can do better then this surely." Luis's voice was contemptuous now as he moved closer to his prey. "Hey, maricon, you remember me huh, I was the one that killed the doctor, I was the one that strangled him like the worthless pig that he was, and now I kill you too." 

Alex gasped at the pain of the cut. Luis, sensing another opening, lunged again, but this time Alex's Quantico training was kicking in and he managed to jump out of the path of the blade as it slashed towards him. 

Suddenly a noise to the left alerted Luis to the fact that at least one of the other inhabitants was now awake. He snarled a curse, realizing that his plans were rapidly turning to shit. Suddenly Alex leapt forward, managing to land a punch squarely on Luis's jaw. More surprised than stunned, he reeled back, stumbling against a small glass fronted cabinet. The vase sitting on top toppled to the floor, smashing into pieces. 

Recovering his balance, Luis lunged at Alex again. With a curse of his own, Alex ducked the blade, then crouching low, grabbed Luis around his torso, tackling him to the ground, but Luis was able to lift his leg up high enough to bring his knee squarely into Alex's chest. Winded, Alex stumbled back, gasping for breath. It was at that moment when Mauga came thundering down the hall. 

Taking in the situation immediately, he pushed Alex out of the way, then grabbing Luis by the shirt collar, hauled him to his feet. Desperate now, Luis brought the knife up, preparing to thrust it into Mauga's chest, but Mauga was quicker. Grabbing Luis's wrist, he bent it back, forcing him to drop the knife. It fell from his suddenly nerveless fingers and landed on the floor with a loud clatter. 

Another curse exploded from Luis's lips and bringing his fist up, it connected solidly with Mauga's nose. Barely feeling the impact, Mauga lunged again, this time grabbing Luis by his throat. Luis's face turned purple as his oxygen supply was cut off, then found himself sprawling backwards on the floor from a solid punch. Wasting no time, Mauga landed another couple of blows, knocking Luis out. 

Then breathing hard, he turned to a white faced Alex. 

"Wake Walter up...now!" 

* * *

Alex stumbled toward the stairs, clutching his wounded arm. He moved as quickly as he could, stopping at the linen closet to grab a towel to use as a makeshift bandage, wrapping it around his arm. Entering the room Walter was using he moved quickly to the bed. He knew Walter had been a bit tipsy, but he couldn't really understand why the noise hadn't woken him as it had Mauga. 

Switching on the bedside lamp, he realized that something was wrong right away. Touching Walter, he felt the sweat on his skin. Walter didn't respond to the gentle shaking of his shoulder. Alex realized that his breath was coming in short gasps and there was a rash spreading over the part of his neck and chest that was exposed above the blanket. 

"Mauga, we need help! Walter is in trouble!" He yelled in a panicky voice. 

He heard a muffled noise and soon feet were pounding toward them. Mauga entered the room and nearly knocked him over getting to Walter. 

"Fuck, what is going on here? The stupid detail watching this place just got here and they said EMS is on it's way." 

"That guy is Morton's killer." 

Alex sank down onto the bed feeling a little light headed. Mauga looked at him to see him fading. Grabbing the boy, he pushed him down next to Walter and then yelled out to the officers. 

"See what's keeping EMS; we have two men in need of immediate attention up here! And secure the prisoner down there!" 

He bent down to inspect Walter closer and realized that his friend had been drugged. Turning to Alex, he checked to make sure that the bleeding had stopped. The towel was red with blood. Mauga pulled it back slightly and realized that Alex would need stitches to close the wound. 

He quickly sent up a small prayer for them both, along with a thank you for the fate that had kept him there with them. Had he not been there, Alex might very well have been dead by now and Walter would have never forgiven himself for that death. 

He heard the sound of the siren in the distance. Running to the bedroom where he'd been sleeping, he tugged on his jeans and stepped into his shoes. He exited the room to see the paramedics coming in the door. 

They entered the room when he pointed to the door. One knelt down next to Alex and the other began checking Walter. Mauga watched as the one checking Walter gave him an injection. 

"What are you giving him?" 

"He's having a severe allergic reaction. We need to stop it before his airway is compromised any further." 

The tube went down Walter's throat. Mauga watched quietly as they worked, when the other team got there he went back out. Looking at the man being guarded by the security team he spoke. 

"What did you give him?" 

"I want a lawyer." The man stared at him defiantly and Mauga knew he'd get nothing from him. 

"Get him out of here. He's under arrest for the murder of Dr. Morton. Have a team sent over here to gather evidence." 

The paramedics began coming out with Walter. "We're taking him in. The other team will transport your other man." 

"Where are you taking them?" He got no answer. 

Mauga waited until he saw Alex loaded into the ambulance and then he got in his car to follow them to the hospital. Once there, he called Dean Brown to fill him in. He arranged for Alex and Walter to be placed in the same room and to have guards assigned. It was possible that the man he'd subdued wouldn't be the only one seeking to silence Alex. 

Mauga watched as the doctors and nurses worked over his friend. Blood was drawn and sent off. When Alex was wheeled in another team began working on him. Mauga looked at the boy's ashen face as he watched Walter being worked on. 

"Is he going to be okay?" 

"We need to worry about you right now. Do you have any other injuries?" 

"He got in a good blow to my chest. Please, I need to know what's wrong with Walter." 

"He's having an allergic reaction. We're treating the symptoms until we find out what caused the problem." 

A doctor got busy stitching up Alex's arm as a portable x-ray machine was moved in to check his chest. By the time the guards and Dean Brown arrived, Walter was showing signs of coming around and Alex was being given plasma. Mauga, the Dean and the doctors conversed in the hallway. 

"Mr. Skinner was given a drug called flurazepam. It was mixed with alcohol which made it work even faster. Normally, he would have slept this off on his own and maybe never realized he'd been drugged, but he's allergic. If you hadn't found him when you did, he would probably be dead now." 

"We found a date rape drug on the intruder." Said Brown. 

Mauga snarled, "Bastard was probably planning on making it look like Alex had drugged Walter to have sex and the whole thing went south. We'd have thought they killed each other." 

"When will Walter be well enough to be released?" asked Dean Brown. 

"I want to keep him overnight. Mr. Krycek can go when he's stable, probably in an hour or so." 

Mauga turned to look at the Dean. "I'll take Alex to my place. I want a man to stay with us and get his friend from his class to stay with us as well." 

"We have the man in custody." 

"That doesn't mean there aren't others looking to take him out. That man was willing to kill Walter - your best AD. Don't you think this may go deeper than you thought?" 

The Dean had been immersed academics for so long that he'd somewhat forgotten the habits of investigating. He nodded, "I'll make arrangements. I need to get back and find out what the forensics team has turned up." 

"Thanks." 

Mauga turned, his focus already back on his friend and the man he was beginning to think of as a friend. They had finished with Alex so Mauga sat on the edge of his bed. He watched, as Alex never took his eyes off Walter. 

"Alex, he's going to be fine." 

Alex finally turned to look at Mauga. "He has to be." 

They said nothing more. The two kept watch, until Walter started to stir. Mauga summoned the doctor who moved quickly to Walter's side. 

"Mr. Skinner, you're in the hospital. You were drugged, but we're flushing your system. The tube was to help you breathe we'll remove it soon. Your friends are here, they're safe." 

Walter's head turned and he spotted a shirtless Alex sporting a bandage and a large knee shaped bruise in the center of his chest. Mauga had a bruise forming on his cheek and his nose was swollen. Mauga grinned at him. Reaching to his throat, Walter began to scratch. 

"Don't do that, you'll get it infected. I'll have a nurse put some cream on it." He checked his equipment and looked back at Walter. "I can get that tube out now if you're ready." 

Walter nodded vigorously. The doctor smiled gave him instructions and soon Walter's airway was clear and he coughed for a minute. The nurse showed up with the ointment and a cup of crushed ice. 

Mauga rose and took the cup from her. "I'll do that." 

She nodded and spread the ointment over the rash. Mauga spooned the ice into his mouth as Walter kept looking at Alex. When the nurse left Mauga grinned at them. 

"I'd tell you to get a room, but neither of you are in any condition to be knocking boots tonight." 

Walter blushed as he cleared his throat. "What happened?" 

"The man who killed Morton showed up. No doubt to kill Alex. I heard them struggling and ran down. After I knocked the prick out, I sent Alex to get you. You'd been given a sedative, turns out you're allergic." 

"You could have died, Walter." 

Alex was trying to get off the bed. Mauga grabbed him as he almost fell on his face. Trailing the IV, they moved to Walter's bed. Alex reached with his free hand and Walter took it in his. Mauga watched, as the connection he knew they'd started, became stronger. 

Alex didn't really want to leave when the doctor gave the okay. But Walter insisted that he go. First thing the next morning Alex wheedled Mauga into taking him along when he went to collect Walter. Murphy went to pick up their clothes from the cottage, and planned to meet them back at Mauga's house later. 

Mauga left Alex with Walter as he took care of some paperwork. There was a guard stationed outside the door so he felt they were safe. Walter was sitting up in bed, looking much better than the day before. 

"Morning, Alex. How are you feeling?" 

"I'm fine, you okay?" 

"Rash is fading, I still have a bit of a headache, but the doctor says that'll be gone soon." 

"I was so scared when I found you like that. Here you try and take care of me and you almost get killed." 

"Hush. It's not your fault. Come here." 

Alex moved closer to the bed and sat when Walter patted the edge. Their eyes met and then they moved toward each other. When Mauga opened the door he found them kissing as they clung to each other. Grinning widely, he stepped back out to give them a few minutes together. 

The next time he opened the door he made a point of being noisy, giving them time to pull apart. "You guys ready to get the heck out of here? I ordered Chinese to pick up on the way home." 

They were still touching when he opened the door completely. Both a little flushed and Alex's bottom lip looked swollen. Walter grinned at him. "Did you get sweet and sour?" 

"Of course, now get your lazy ass up and get dressed." Mauga dropped the small bag he'd brought with him on the bed. "I'll leave Alex to make sure you don't trip over your own feet. There's a pretty nurse at the desk I want to hit on." 

As soon as the door closed Walter pulled Alex back to him. "One for the road?" he kissed him hard on the lips, probing his mouth with an eager tongue. 

Alex's eyes sparkled when the kiss ended. Walter squeezed him one more time. "We've got some unfinished business to take care of as soon as we're both up to it." 

Alex grabbed Walter's crotch and grinned. "Feels like you're up to it now." 

"I want a lot more time and more privacy than we have right now." 

Alex's smile softened at those words. He gave Walter one more soft squeeze, and then stood up to allow Walter room to get out of bed. 

Mauga snickered at them all the way home but neither of them seemed to notice. 

* * *

A tall, thin woman stood on the porch as the truck rolled up the driveway. Alex's eyes went wide as he finally got a good look at the big man's big home. He'd still been affected by sedatives they gave him, and it was very late. Mauga all but carried him upstairs to one of the many bedrooms. It was a huge house, three levels, not including the finished basement. Mauga had told Alex a little about his children, that he still had two boys living at home, but the rest had grown up, gone to college and moved on. 

Walter walked slowly behind the other two men, waiting to get the last hug from Carole, Mauga's wife. She hugged her husband, then gave Alex a small squeeze around his waist, mindful of his slinged arm and bruised chest, then held her arms out for Walter. He melted against her slight frame and Alex watched the two hug warmly. He vaguely remembered meeting Carole, but didn't want to spoil the reunion. 

"Walter Skinner, you are a sight for sore eyes," she said. Mauga had met her on a tour in Europe, after serving his time in Vietnam. Carole was from Rome, but spoke fluent English, which was good for Mauga, who needed to find a bathroom near the Coliseum. They quickly fell in love and married after only a month of dating. Over the years, her accent became more and more smoothly blended with Mauga's Texas twang. The two were tough but loving parents. If you asked any of the children, they would call their mother the head of the household. 

"Carole, you are more beautiful every time I see you!" Walter said, placing a polite kiss on each of her cheeks. 

"If this is so, why do I not see you more often?" she asked, fists on her hips. 

"Why would I squander your beauty in regular visits when I can enjoy it in large helpings like now?" His smile was wide and his eyes sparkled. Alex knew he'd never seen Walter look like that, but he'd not known Walter for very long. He may not have been the true stone-faced brute everyone made him out to be. 

"You smooth talking devil, Walter. OK, everyone in the house. I've made Italian Wedding soup for lunch, since both our guests have gentle stomachs. Please, gentlemen, come inside." 

Carole led them into a large, well-furnished home where Janice Murphy also waited for them. Alex noted that all the pieces were big and comfortable, and while the house didn't look shabby or messy, it looked like there was a family living there. Carole kept an impeccable home, clean and orderly, yet inviting. She led then directly to what Walter whispered to Alex was the "small dining room". She'd set the table for them and there were already two little boys sitting there. Well, they were young, but not as little as Alex thought they should be for their ages. He was smaller when he was their ages, but he'd gained his height in high school. 

* * *

Walter waited while Javier and Miguel, Mau and Carole's youngest children, jumped from their chairs to run into his arms. Carole yelled at them to be careful of Walter's injuries. He stood up, one young boy in each arm, suspended from the floor, and said, "I didn't get hurt. Only drugged up, which would have been nicer if I wasn't allergic, you know." 

"Who drugged you, Uncle Walt?" Miguel asked. Both boys had been adopted as a pair from Columbia. Mau and Carole were only going to adopt Miguel, but when the couple was told Miguel's twin was missing him and they hadn't even left the hospital, they took both boys. All of Mau and Carole's children were adopted, all nineteen of them. They'd been adopted at various stages of life from various countries around the world, some as babies like the twins, some well into their teens. The wall of family photos was in the large den and resembled a conceptual idea of the League of Nations; school photos, graduations, weddings, baptisms, holidays, and any occasion you could think of. The O'Neill clan was large, loud and loving. And all thought that "Uncle Walt" was the greatest thing since pockets. 

Walter recounted some of the tale for the boys, who were just about to turn twelve, keeping the salacious details private, such as Morton's sexual obsession with Alex and the state in which Alex was found. He wove an intriguing tale for the boys, full of exciting moments, including their father's heroic efforts. Miguel stood and said, "I have to show you something, Uncle Walt," and ran out of the room. Walter looked at Mauga who just shrugged. When he returned, Miguel was carrying the small plastic container with the huge hissing cockroach. Alex gasped, but felt Walter's assuring hand on his knee. 

"This is El Guapo, the bug you gave us." 

That's what you named him?" Walter asked. 

"Yeah, but he doesn't listen or nothing. He's just a bug." Miguel put the container on the table and immediately, the bug moved toward the side closest to Alex. 

"Jacob?" Alex said absently, looking at the container. "Jacob, that's his name. He'll answer to it, I think." 

The roach began to try and climb the smooth wall, but realized the futility and just leaned up on the edges, like a puppy in a kennel. Everyone was amazed, except Alex, who was losing color in his face. 

"Come on, boys, take this thing out of here. No bugs at the table, new rule in the house." Mauga waved his hand at the container, giving the boys a pointed look. They took the hint and took the bug away. Mauga reached over and slapped Alex on the shoulder. "Relax, buddy, Jacob was a good guy. He wanted to go with you." 

Alex smiled and nodded. Carole, being ever the hostess changed the subject smoothly so that Alex could collect himself. They talked for a while longer and before everyone knew it, lunch was over, and Walter felt very weary. 

"You know," Alex said, "I could use some rest myself. I forgot where that room is." 

Carole stood and after instructing the boys to clear the table and load the dishwasher, she walked Walter and Alex up the stairs to the first room with two beds in it. It used to belong to the two oldest boys, Ke Fan and Antoinne, who were both married with children of their own. The spacious room was plainly decorated in shades of blue and gray, with two full-sized beds. 

Alex sat on one and Walter sat on the other. Murphy walked in and said, "I've loaded your clothes into the dressers, and your shaving kits are in the top drawer of the connected bathroom. This floor must have been for the boys; everything is blue." 

"Yes, this is the boys' floor, Janice," Walter explained. "I'm sure they put you up on the girls' floor, in Marie Adelle's room. She was the oldest girl and went to college locally. So her room has the biggest bed." 

"Yes, I'm right above you two. OK, just get some rest, I'll come get you guys for dinner." 

Murphy closed the door behind her as she left, not before she took a moment to put a motherly hand on Alex's shoulder. Walter could see the worry in her face over the young man. When they were alone, Walter began removing his shoes, purposely not looking at Alex. 

"Walter, do you think it's coincidence that Mauga put us in one room together?" Walter could hear the amusement in Alex's voice. 

"I think that these are the biggest beds on the floor. Unless you want to sleep in a twin bed with Star Wars sheets. Let me be clear, aside from maybe a private show of some affection, we will not insult my oldest and dearest friend by getting to know each other biblically in his home, Alex. It's not a rejection of you, just a form of respect. I wouldn't expect him and Carole to have sex in my home. When I lived with Sharon when we were married, Carole and Mauga came to stay plenty of times, and did not do that. I intend to be equally respectful." 

"Of course, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be disrespectful..." 

"I know, Alex. I'm not accusing you. Let's just get some rest." 

Alex nodded and both men lay back on their beds, soon falling into a restful sleep. 

* * *

While Murphy played volleyball in the backyard with the two boys, Mauga and Carole sat together in the kitchen, at the breakfast table, sipping wine and talking. "Mau, this is the boy he loves?" 

"Yes, he's head over heels. He even told Alex about his...condition." 

"I can't believe he's finally truly ignoring that woman. I'll never forgive that comment she made about you being a...what did she call you?" 

"A mud person, all mixed up, black and white. She didn't even know the difference between a South Pacific islander and an African. Lady was ignorant." 

"She should have known better. Walter is so much better off without her. Let's hope that this boy will love him the way he needs. Sharon was good for him. If only he had let her teach him." Carole shook her head. Mauga started to chuckle at her. "Why are you laughing at me?" 

"Think about it, mi amor. No wonder Walter never made love to Sharon, he's gay! He probably always has been and it was just conditioned out by that Harpie of a mother. Now that she's dead, and he's beginning to really live his life without her voice in his ear, and in his head, I guess, he's going to explore the sexuality he was born into." 

"All I want is for that wonderful man to be happy." 

"That's what we all want, mi amor. No one more than Alex, I think." 

* * *

After three days of the most comfortable guest accommodations Alex had ever experienced, outside of his mother's home, he decided he wanted some time alone with Walter. Carole catered to her guests as if they were royalty, something that Alex felt uncomfortable about at first. After voicing his concerns to Walter, he wasn't prepared for the laughter. 

"Alex, she's used to taking care of people. They had 19 children. And these are some of the healthiest and most well-adjusted children you've ever met. Three of their children were diagnosed with reactionary attachment disorder. They'd been through the system so long, nothing worked in order to incorporate them into a family properly. Not until Mauga and Carole got their hands on the kids. I don't know what it is about those two. He was great all by himself, but together, they're...something else." 

"He's such a big guy, but those boys jump all over him like he's a bear rug," Alex noted. 

"He's playful. Hell, even I became a horse to a cowgirl or two in my time. The boys are too rough for my back." 

"You have a bad back?" Alex asked. They'd retired to the back porch, with the pretense of watching the sunset. In truth, they wanted to be alone and enjoy quiet and each other's company. Between Alex's injuries, and "Uncle Walter" teaching the boys to tackle for little league football, they spent their nights drowsing in bed, trying to have a conversation, but undoubtedly dropping off to sleep. Walter rubbed a spot on his ribs that he was sure would bruise from when Murphy took him down. She was surprisingly good at football. She had left that morning, knowing that Alex and Walter were okay on their own and she could go back to her classes. 

"No, just an old one. Too old to horse around with pre-teens for as long as I did." 

Alex sat closer to Walter on the porch swing, enjoying the late summer evening breeze. Walter slipped his arm around Alex's shoulders and pulled the young man closer. It was only a few moments before Alex turned his head towards Walter's and pressed his lips against the slack mouth before him. Walter whole-heartedly returned the kiss. Alex was thankful it was his left arm that was hurt, leaving his right arm free to hug Walter and stroke his neck and face as they kissed in the dying light. 

Knowing that they may be insulting their hosts, Alex pulled away and said, "We should go inside. They're probably wondering where we are." 

"Mauga knows exactly where we are. Now, get that delicious mouth back here." Walter gave Alex a gentle, playful tug. 

"God! All that advice women get from their mothers is right. Give a man a little and he's never satisfied." 

Both men shared a laugh, but soon Alex had tipped his head back in silent invitation to kiss him again. Walter took the gift and savored it with relish. They spent the better part of the next hour exploring each other's mouths thoroughly until Mauga walked to the backdoor and knocked before coming out. Walter had the good sense to pull away and sit back with Alex still against his chest. 

"You two should get up to bed. I...uh...well, I mean..." 

"Mau," Walter interrupted, "I'm not gonna lose my virginity in your house. Relax, Dad." 

All three men roared with laughter. In the end, Walter and Alex realized Mauga was correct. They made their way up to the bedroom and sat on their beds. Alex looked over at Walter who was collecting his things to go into the bathroom and wash up. 

"Walter?" 

Walter turned and looked down. "Yes, Alex?" 

"I...want...we should go back to the cottage soon. I mean..." 

"You're correct. I'm going to have to get you back into your academic classes. You'll be excused from participating in the physical education classes until you get the all clear, but you'll be required to attend to watch." 

"I figured," Alex said, then sighed. 

Walter sat beside Alex on his bed and with his fingers tipped Alex's chin up to look in his eyes. "What's wrong? You were smiling just a moment ago about going to the cottage." 

"I really screwed the pooch, didn't I? I couldn't just go through the academy like thousands of recruits have done for years. No, I have to get a respected doctor get the hots for me, get him killed, then have the killer come after me, almost killing the man I care about in the process. This is just great." 

"Alex!" Walter said sharply. "None of this is your fault. This is just the way it is right now. You didn't lead Morton on. Because of the shadowy group he was involved with, he sealed his own fate. There's no way you could have imagined this would happen, much less cause it. I want you to stop this right now. OK?" 

"OK. Thank you, Walter." They shared a small hug. 

"Good. Now, when I get back, and we're ready for bed, I expect a big kiss good night." 

"Yes, sir!" Alex said, and watched as Walter went to the bathroom and closed the door. He smiled to himself. "That man is gonna fuck me so hard." 

* * *

A nightmare woke Alex and, without a thought, he crossed to Walter's bed and squeezed in next to him. Without waking, Walter muttered something, reached for him, and pulled him into the welcoming harbor of his body. It was near perfect. 

Some later time, Mauga was prodding Alex awake. The man said, "Cardinal escaped." 

Disentangling from Walter's embrace, Alex blinked and drew a sharp breath, an answering pain in his arm. "How?" he asked. 

"There was an attempt to kill him in his cell. I ordered him to be moved to protective custody even though he's not cooperating. In route, Cardinal seems to have managed to severely injure both guard and driver. They're in critical condition in the hospital and I am not pleased. I don't like my people being hurt." 

"I'm sorry," Alex said. Walter bumped into him, jarring his already painful arm and making him yelp. 

"Fuck," Walter mumbled. "Sorry." 

"It's all right," Alex said. 

"We have to get out of here," Walter said. "I'm not getting your kids caught in the crossfire." 

"Damn right," Mauga agreed. 

"Give us a minute to get dressed," Walter said, moving aside the covers. 

"A minute," Mauga said. "Wife was cooking breakfast, but she'll slap it into sandwiches for us." 

"Great," Walter said, offering Alex a hand. 

Although he felt fine other than the aching arm, Alex accepted the gesture, any excuse to have Walter's hands on him. He was happy despite the tension to feel Walter's hand squeeze his uninjured arm gently. Even better, the moment that Mauga left, Walter kissed him deeply and passionately. Alex had heard the expression 'make your knees go weak', but this was the first time he had felt it. Walter might be inexperienced, but he had great instincts. 

Carole had sacks ready and had produced mugs which steamed enticingly. Walter managed to plant a kiss on her cheek before she almost shoved him out the door. She might be his friend, but she wouldn't endanger her children for anything. 

Mauga said, "Go to my sister's house right away. The house can be rebuilt. You and the kids can't." 

"We're ready," Carole said. She went out the back door with two excited boys in tow. Alex sighed as he saw that Jacob Hardy was still part of the family. He also was going to Mauga's sister's. 

* * *

Before they reached the cottage, Mauga's phone rang. He had it on speaker; the crisp voice of a woman said, "Mau? Cardinal was involved in a shootout near the eleven hundred block of Connecticut Ave NW. He managed to take out his attackers and fled on foot." 

"Thanks, Helen," Mauga replied. Turning with a smirk toward Walter, he said, "You don't suppose Cardinal is seeking refuge with the B'nai B'rith?" 

Ignoring Mauga's comment, Walter said, "Take us there." 

"What?" Mauga said. 

Alex was surprised and turned on to hear a different Walter. There was no deferring to Mauga now. Walter sounded as if he would rip a piece out of his friend's hide if he wasn't obeyed. 

"What about the kid?" Mauga asked. 

"The 'kid' would probably like a chance to take the offensive for once," Walter said. 

"The kid would," Alex said. 

"This doesn't shoot blanks," Walter said, slapping a SIG Sauer into Alex's hands. "I know they tell you don't shoot if you can help it, but under the circumstances, I don't want to hear you yelling warnings. Whoever these people are, they are ruthless. You shoot and shoot to kill, Alex, if they shoot at us." 

* * *

Still enroute toward Connecticut Ave, the phone rang again and the same cool voice came on. "Mau, there was another shooting at an apartment on Connecticut. One younger man killed and an older man critically wounded. He's in route to the hospital. They don't think he'll make it. It wasn't an accidental shooting," the woman said. "The dead man and the wounded were heavily armed." 

"We're about ten minutes away," Mauga said. "Who is responding?" 

"The local precinct right now," the woman said. "You asked us to keep tabs on any sightings of Cardinal. You want someone on it?" 

"How fast can you and Bodie get there?" Mauga asked. 

"We can beat your time," the woman said. 

"Get on it, Helen," Mauga said. He explained, "Bodie and Helen Jarvis are two of my best. I trust them with my life. I'd trust my kids to them." 

"Then I trust them too," Walter said. 

* * *

By the time they arrived on the scene, Helen, who was a sturdy Amazon of a woman, nearly as tall as Mauga, had secured the scene. The apartment reeked of smoke; an ashtray overflowed with Morley cigarettes. On a desk, an old fashioned typewriter held a sheet of closely spaced type. A stack of papers spilled across the remainder of the desk. A bloody handprint marked a sheet that had fallen to the floor. 

Without a word, Walter picked up a locked briefcase. Mauga watched him, but didn't comment. Alex moved around, not touching anything. Walter also appeared to be searching. He grunted with shock and said, "Mulder and his sister?" 

The picture showed a young teen and a younger girl, both marked with a prominent nose and intelligent intense hazel eyes. 

"That's Agent Mulder as a kid?" Alex asked. "What would that be doing here?" 

"Morley man, the one who has been stalking you, has a great deal of interest in Mulder's activities. I've never known why. Perhaps he's related somehow?" Walter answered. 

"You know him?" Alex asked. 

"I know he's someone in National Security," Walter said. "He appears at staff meetings although no one ever introduces him. He may as well be J. Edgar's ghost for the open access he has to the Hoover." 

"I don't understand this stuff," Alex replied. He frowned. Although he dabbled with conspiracy theory, he never quite bought into it. 

"I don't understand it either," Walter said. "I've suspected for a long time that my agency was riddled with people who were working toward a different agenda then the one I signed on to support." 

"I have the same feeling," Mauga said. "Such as the sudden word for me to back off my investigation into the circumstances of Alex's kidnapping. I'm not sure how they even knew I was involved unless they were tapping my phone." 

"Illegal wiretapping?" Bodie remarked wryly. "That never happens." 

Bodie had an English accent, a distinct Roman nose, and a darkly suspicious look that appeared permanent in his eyes. 

Mauga snorted and said, "Keep that up and they're never going to put you back with your Doyle." 

"The Brits loaned us Bodie," Mauga said. "It's a punishment duty for him. He and his best beloved partner, Doyle, got into a bit of mischief and he was sent here to clip their wings." 

"Sod off," was Bodie's comment. 

"Any word on Cardinal?" Walter asked Helen Jarvis. 

"He's on foot and may be wounded," Jarvis replied. "He was spotted moving toward the B'nai B'rith and..." 

Her mobile phone chimed at that point. Jarvis listened and said, "He's at the B'nai B'rith, took an office hostage." 

Any further words were buried as the entire group made for the door. The two cars cleared traffic by sheer will power until they arrived at the building. A SWAT team had already arrived. Uniformed police officers held back any bystander and kept anyone who was concerned about their cars from endangering themselves and the police. 

Helen had been in contact with the Precinct chief, a man even taller than she was. He was a friend of hers, Mauga said. She walked back to explain to Mauga and Walter, "He took a research office hostage, five people, three of them women. Most of the other employees are clear now." 

Her words were again drowned out by gunfire. The sudden barrage stilled as soon as it started. After two attempts to ring into the office, the SWAT team started for the office. Donning armor, Walter, Mauga, and Alex followed after a combined blistering from the FBI AD and Mauga withered the resistance of the SWAT commander to their presence. 

The drama ended as abruptly as it began. The hostages were alive, frightened, but holding up well. Cardinal was dead on the floor. An aged man held his arms up, a gun at his feet. 

"What happened?" Walter barked. 

"Ben Levy shot him," a woman said. 

"Who is Ben Levy?" Walter asked. 

"I am Ben Levy," the white haired man said. "I did not live through Warsaw and through Treblinka to see my people killed by scum here. I may be old, but I survived fights that would have made that scum shit his pants." 

Mauga and Walter exchanged looks and let the SWAT commander take over. They searched Ben Levy and saw his permit to carry his weapon. 

"I guess Cardinal picked the wrong building to take hostages," Alex said. He was getting over his squeamishness over dead bodies more rapidly than he was ready for. He never expected to have one thrown at him seemingly every other day. 

Cardinal had been wounded in the arm, probably the wound that caused his desperate and ultimately foolish move. Ben Levy had managed to shoot three times. Any of the wounds might have been fatal, but the final bullet had taken out most of Cardinal's left skull. It wasn't a pretty sight, but Alex was too burned out to react. 

"I suggest we get to the hospital," Mauga said. "Our smoking friend may want to talk before he dies." 

"I could make the bloody bastard talk," Bodie muttered; a sharp look from Mauga silenced him. 

"Bodie, stay with the investigation at the apartment and I wouldn't mind finding out if there's any evidence that this man was monitoring any calls from me," Mauga said. "Helen, thanks. Can you stay with this scene and see if there's any more information about Cardinal? I want to know who hired him. He was a professional and someone had him on a leash." 

"Will do, Sir," Helen said, professional now they were in public. 

* * *

The Morley man was still holding onto life at the emergency room. He was unconscious, his vitals watched by a ton of machinery. Walter wished he could reach into the man's head and pull out the information in it. He was glad that the two most prominent menaces to his beloved Alex were neutralized, but he felt as if there was more. He suspected that the answers to the questions that had started to dog him about the FBI were just within reach. 

Debating whether to pull Mulder and Scully into this, Walter arranged for increased security on the Smoking Man. He might be someone important, but Walter knew in his guts that the powers that be would sacrifice him if they thought he would talk. 

Thoughts turning toward Mauga's Bodie, Walter felt inclined to let the British agent loose on Spender. He wouldn't mind getting his hands dirty himself if there was a chance he could clean out the tainted upper echelon of his beloved FBI. 

The emotion stirring in Walter's chest was something he had not felt for a long time. It was hope. Hope for the future. He could dream of setting Mulder back into his X Files. Of taking orders he felt sure were untainted of men who had other agendas than fighting crime. Glancing at Alex, he knew he hoped for more. 

Alex and Walter might never be able to live openly together but they could be with each other. Ethics might say no, but what Walter felt was stronger than rules in a handbook. He remembered reading about the Theban Band, of the theory that two lovers would fight harder to show honor to one another. It could be that way with him and Alex. It would be that way. 

* * *

Walter had reached a decision, one that he would never deviate from for the rest of his life. For some reason he never doubted that Alex would feel the same way. Walter wanted to be cautious so he insisted that they spend a few more days at a neutral location. He wanted to be sure that no one else would be coming after Alex. 

Mauga went with them to get supplies and then to a safe house that Mauga had hurriedly arranged. He stayed for just a short period of time and then left them alone. Once the door closed, the two men clutched each other, the aftermath of everything catching up to them. 

Pulling back slightly, Walter led Alex over to the sofa. He sat and pulled Alex into his lap, turning him so that they didn't put pressure on Alex's sore arm. For several long minutes they kissed, both needed to share the feel of being together. 

Finally, Alex pulled back and smiled at Walter. "Are you really worried or do you have designs on my body?" 

Walter attempted to leer, causing Alex to snicker. Then Walter tried to look injured, but that didn't work either, so he pulled Alex back down and took his breath with another kiss. When he released Alex's mouth, he became serious. 

"I do want to be careful, there could be someone else looking to hurt you. I can't let that happen." 

Alex's eyes sparkled as he leaned over to kiss Walter's nose, then he pressed their foreheads together. "I feel the same way about you. We're both so lucky that Mauga was there and Cardinale's plans didn't work out. So where do we go from here?" 

"I know what I want, but I guess that depends on how serious you are about me. I think you're as serious as I am. I think this is forever." 

Alex wrapped his arms around Walter even tighter. They shared another kiss and then Alex kissed along Walter's jaw to whisper in his ear. "I picked up supplies. We have privacy here to get to know each other better." 

"Know, in the biblical sense?" 

"Please." 

"I guess I've kept you waiting long enough. Shall we go into the bedroom?" 

Alex was up before the last word was finished. Walter watched as he ran to where they'd tossed their jackets. Pulling out a slender tube and a small box, Alex turned. "Walter, why are you still sitting?" 

Walter grinned and sprang up to follow Alex to the bedroom. Alex had placed his supplies on the nightstand and disappeared into the bathroom. He came out with a couple of hand towels and put them next to the other things on the nightstand. 

Then he prowled toward Walter, hips swaying slightly, tongue peeking out to lick his suddenly dry lips. He'd been dreaming of this moment, but now he was nervous. He'd never been with a virgin. In a way, that was a good thing, Walter wouldn't be a tough critic of his technique. On the other hand, he could ruin everything if he didn't make it good for Walter. 

With trembling hands, Alex reached to undo the buttons on Walter's shirt. Walter's hands covered his and he looked up into the warm brown eyes. "We're going to be fine, Alex. No matter how awkward this first time might be. What we've had so far has been wonderful, it can only get better." 

Alex slipped his arms around Walter and they shared another kiss. They managed to fumble their way to the bed without letting go of each other. Falling onto it, they continued to kiss and tear at buttons and zippers. Soon both shirts were opened, they didn't want to stop long enough to pull them completely off. A zipper made a ripping sound and then Walter groaned as Alex's hand found his erection and began to stroke it. Walter was attempting to find his way into Alex's pants with less success, there wasn't enough blood left in the rest of his body to make things work properly. 

Alex let go of his prize long enough to rip open his pants. Walter sucked hard on Alex's tongue as his hand was filled with warm, firm flesh. The two rolled back and forth, kissing and stroking. Walter came first, tensing and whimpering, "Nonononono." 

"Hush, it's okay, Walter. We've got plenty of time." 

Then Alex shuddered and added his load to the mess between them. Foreheads touching the two men panted into each other's mouths as they continued to share kisses. As their come began to cool, Walter reached for one of the towels and they cleaned up a little. Without conversation they rose to finish undressing and then met on the bed again. 

They dozed entwined for a couple of hours. Then rose, showered and cooked dinner together. After eating and cleaning up they settled on the sofa. The TV was ignored for the most part as the two men made out. Walter was finally getting to do the things most folks do during high school. 

When Alex pulled back and suggested that they turn in, Walter rechecked the locks before following to the bedroom. Alex had already stripped out of his shorts and tee and was reclining in a sexy posture on the turned down bed. 

"God, you're so beautiful!" 

"Then come here and worship my beauty." Alex told him with a bit of a wobble in his low voice. 

Walter stripped on his way across the room. Sitting on the edge of the bed, Walter traced a path down the center of Alex's chest ending by gently squeezing the leaking head of Alex's cock. Slender hips rose in encouragement. Leaning down Walter captured Alex's lips in a long, slow wet kiss. He felt a little strange, with Alex being still pretty much shaved, although the stubble was coming in. Then again, the whole situation was strange, with Alex's lack of pubic hair only adding to it all. 

"Alex, you know I'm not experienced, you'll need to guide me." 

"You've been doing pretty good so far. I want you inside me." 

"Ah..." Walter's eyes were huge as he practically drooled. 

"We should talk about that a little first. I'm clean, Walter. I'll understand if you don't want to take the risk." 

"You'd want to do it that way?" 

"I'd love to have nothing between us, to know your come was inside me." 

Walter moaned once more, he couldn't believe how much of a turn on that idea was. A nagging voice in the back of his mind tried to assert itself, but he stuffed it back into the dark. 

"Show me." 

Alex reached for the lube, opening it; he squeezed out a generous portion, to cover Walter's ample dick. Watching Walter's eyes, Alex quickly tugged down on his ball sac. Walter jerked in reaction. 

"Sorry, Alex." 

"Don't be. Pulling on your balls stops you from coming, most of the time. It's just because all this is new to you. I have a feeling that once you're done this a few times, you're going to wear me out." 

Walter blushed all the way up his bald head. Alex released the slicked up cock and wiped his hand before moving more toward the center of the bed. Motioning to Walter, Alex watched as Walter crawled between his legs. Alex moved his legs up to rest on Walter's shoulders. 

With a little fumbling, Walter managed to get his greased up dick pressed against Alex's hole. He intended to press in slowly but he moved forward as Alex surged upward. Alex groaned as he was opened wider than ever before, his body protesting the fact that he'd been celibate for some time and nothing that large had ever been in him. 

Walter froze, biting his lip, willing away an instant climax. "Alex?" 

Alex pulled him down to steal a kiss. Neither one moved other than the kissing as they waited, Alex for his ass to relax, Walter praying for control. "Oh, you feel so good in me." 

Pulling back from a kiss, Walter growled. "Alex, I need to move!" 

Alex grinned, "Then do it, Walter." Alex waited curious as to how Walter was going to react to his first piece of ass. 

Walter pulled out slowly, chewing on his bottom lip at the sensation of Alex's hole clinging to him. His first few thrusts were tentative. But the feelings soon became too much, and combined with Alex's grunted urging, he became frantic. 

Walter's hands gripped Alex's legs, spreading him wide so that he could watch as his dick slid in and out of his lover's body. 

"That's it! God, Walter, fuck me! Harder! Christ, you're amazing!" 

The bed rocked, banging against the wall as Walter pounded into the tight heat. A deep, needy noise signaled that Walter was close. Alex reached for his own cock, wanting to come as close to the same time that Walter did as possible. 

Walter slammed in, "Fuck!" Alex felt the jerking of Walter's dick as come flooded him. 

He jacked himself hard as Walter watched him. Dropping one of Alex's legs he reached out to wrap his fist around Alex's. A few fast pulls later, Alex's come flowed hotly over their joined hands. 

Walter was tired but he wouldn't move, he wanted to stay inside Alex as long as possible. He studied the face of the man lying before him. Alex's mouth was slightly open as he panted. His skin was covered with a fine sheen of sweat. Walter had never seen anyone more beautiful. 

"You're mine now." 

Alex's eyes fluttered open, eyelashes like fans, and he smiled. "Yeah, and you're mine." 

Walter decided he could live with that. A soft groan came from each man as Walter's softened cock slipped from Alex's body. After a quick wipe to each of them, Walter got comfortable and pulled Alex into his arms. 

That's when it hit Walter. He'd done it. Fornicated, fucked, buggared, copulated, screwed - made love. He waited for her voice, waited to hear the condemnation. But it never came. As the lethargy pulled him down into sleep he enjoyed the most peace he'd ever felt. 

Alex shifted slightly against his already sleeping lover. Walter mumbled a protest and clutched him tighter. Alex smiled, feeling a bit like a favorite teddy bear. He could feel a slight trickle from his delightfully well used ass. His smile grew a little as he realized that, happily, he'd been right. Walter had fucked him hard - and deep and very, very well. He nuzzled into Walter's throat, breathing deeply of that man smell and joined his lover in sleep. 

* * *

**THREE YEARS LATER**

Walter hurried Alex to get dressed before it got any later. 

"Walt, come on, you're not taking me to church, are you? I think it's bad taste to take your gay lover to an orthodox church." Alex buttoned his white shirt and started tying his tie. 

"Alex, don't be crass," Walter admonished. "I want to go to the cemetery to put flowers on my father's grave. This is thirty two years he's gone. We go through this all the time, don't we? Every year, I go and put flowers on his grave, his birthday, my parent's anniversary and today. I want you to come with me. It's a long drive to Cleveland." 

Walter had told Alex many times that he visited his parents' graves, but the other man never went with him, wishing to afford Walter the space he needed to grieve in private. Alex held no love for cemeteries, either, only visiting his parents' graves on their anniversary. Walter insisted this time. It was winter, yes, but a mild one. There wasn't even any snow yet and it was February. Walter was planning something special for Valentine's Day and he needed to take Alex to the graveside to ensure it worked out the way he wanted. 

Both men dressed in their favorite suits, matching blue pattern ties and got into Walter's truck to drive to the cemetery. Walter would have driven the Corvair, as tribute to his father, but it was too long a drive and he just didn't want to risk an accident with his father's prize. On the way there, Walter reflected on the last three years of his life. He'd met Alex at the academy, fallen in love and found himself. 

Being able to silence the admonishing voice of his mother, he'd moved on with his life, and became a sexual adult. He'd met with Sharon over lunch, and she looked at him intensely. He blushed, of course. The fact that he'd begun having sex didn't change his basic nature of reserved strength, and her leer caused his cheeks to pinken. 

"Walter...are you dating someone?" she asked. No matter that they divorced, and Sharon married another man with whom she shared a healthy sex life, she still loved Walter deeply and would always know him in her heart. 

"I am, Sharon," he said, quietly. 

"Have you..." She stopped short, and Walter attributed that to her sense of privacy, since Walter was always one to keep things very private. 

"I should just be honest. Many things have changed about me. One thing I have to tell you, I'm not dating a woman." Sharon inhaled sharply at that. If anything could shock her, this was it. "I want to let you know, all those times I couldn't perform, it wasn't you. You're beautiful, sexy, amazing...I'm gay. I was...I always was. She beat me into thinking I wasn't. Being with Alex, it brought me out." 

"Are you 'out' out?" she asked, quickly. 

"No, we can't be. The bureau doesn't have a written policy on homosexuals but use 'don't ask, don't tell' like the military. But you know as well as I do that out agents are 'on their own,' so to speak. Thankfully, Alex is in computer crimes. I couldn't imagine him being in violent crimes and needing back up if he was out." 

"Wait, Alex is an agent? Walter! Your career..." Her face was the one becoming pink at hearing this. 

"No, Sharon, relax. The Director is turning a blind eye to it. We're in two totally different divisions. If Alex were a woman, we could be married publicly. We just keep things professional at the office. We rarely, if ever pass each other at the Hoover. But we live together." 

Sharon's smile beamed megawatts of light onto Walter. "I'm so thankful you're happy. God answered my prayers for you. It only goes to show, God doesn't hate gay men, otherwise he wouldn't have brought Alex to you. I'm so thankful you're blessed, Walter." 

Her support was important to him. When Alex became an agent, his first personal assignment was to begin collecting as much evidence against the Smoking Man as he could. Mauga, ever the informant, sent anonymous disks full of information to Alex, all compiling to a database that when presented to the Director, he was forced to act. The global ramifications were enormous, each country's government participating, all over Europe, Asia, Africa and South America. The Consortium was the single most evil force the planet has ever known, making the Nazis look like Boy Scouts. Walter was proud to testify for his country to bring down the men who threatened all he held dear. 

Alex had been by his side the whole time, Mauga in full military dress stood at the other as the sentences of death by lethal injection for treason and espionage were read for each of the twelve main members of the Consortium. The lesser members received sentences of either death for capital murder, or life imprisonment for espionage and treason. Alex realized they'd dodged a bullet by investigating and not falling prey to the smoking man. 

They spent the trip to Cleveland silently reflecting on the last three years, spending time with Mauga's huge family, the birth of his newest granddaughter, who had taken interest in Alex and was still only two. Alex allowed her to cling to him like a monkey, which kept her very quiet, much to the enjoyment of her parents. They went so far as to change her middle name, at her insistence, to Alexandra. Walter felt like a proud parent, himself. 

Alex introduced Walter to some of his gay friends, and they were known to spent nights in a gay sports bar in Alexandria, watching soccer or football, drinking and making out. Walter did not tell Agents Mulder or Scully about himself, as he didn't feel he needed to. Their testimony and assistance in the Consortium investigations and trials were key, but they were agents, not friends, and no matter how deeply Mulder tried to probe, Walter kept him at arm's length. As much as he respected Mulder as an agent, and liked the man genuinely, he was not a person Walter wanted floating around in his head. Alex never pressed Walter to remember things about his past, about his parents, knowing the great stress it caused Walter. Mulder, he suspected, would not be so kind, insisting Walter work through his past to move on. The way that Alex hobbled around sometimes, he thought he was working through his past nicely. 

They pulled up alongside the gravesites and Walter put the truck in park. Alex looked at him. "Are you sure you want me there, Walter?" 

"Yes, very much. I want to make sure that everything in my life is settled." 

The two men exited the truck and walked to the two graves with matching dove gray marble stones. The graves of his parents, Walter Sergei Sr. and Zvetlana Katherina Skinner. It gave Walter chills to see his name on a gravestone. It hurt worse that it was his beloved father, the man who always made every wrong in Walter's life right. Alex handed Walter the flowers he'd purchased on the way. Walter Sr. always thought it was best to put white roses on a man's grave. The man taught his son no one should be forgotten, even in death. They'd visited Walter's grandparents regularly after their deaths when he was a boy. 

Taking a deep breath, Walter placed the flowers down over the manicured grave. Walter squatted and looked at the stone intently, as if looking at his father's face. "Dad, I miss you so much. I wish you were here with me." 

He stood abruptly and wiped the tears from his face. He took another breath, cleared his throat and put his arm around Alex's shoulders. "Mom, Dad, this is Alex. I'm in love with him. I want to be happy and be with him the rest of my life. I know that you both wanted me to be with Sharon and have a traditional life, but that wasn't in the cards for me. You have a gay son. And Dad, I know you would want me to be happy. I'm just sorry I'm not what you wanted." 

Walter felt the cold February wind blow up his back, swiftly catching his attention. In the howl through the trees, there was another sound. //I only want you to be happy, son. You were always the most important part of my life. I love you.// Tears anew sprang from Walter's eyes as he reveled in the sound of his father's voice ringing in his ears. He couldn't help but let a few sobs escape his throat. Alex instinctively grabbed Walter into a firm embrace. 

"You heard him?" Alex asked quietly. 

"Yeah. I did." 

"Bout time." 

* * *

Alex led Walter to the truck and took him home. Walter was still a little shaken from hearing his father's kind and loving voice after so many years of his mother's scolding. Slowly, Alex felt he was helping Walter to finally be the man he wanted to be. They went back to the house where Alex fixed them a light meal to tide them over until the hockey game started, where in the second period, they'd order a pizza. Walter's Capitals were playing Alex's Rangers, and it was a grudge match for the two men. 

Alex didn't mention the visit to the grave until after the game, during dinner, when Walter said, "I can't believe I heard him." 

"I felt really awkward, Walt. I mean, I know your mom hated sex and gays and all that. He really said he loved you, huh?" 

"Yes. I'm thankful for that. I'm sorry you felt that way. I wanted them to meet you, in a sense. Alex, you're the most important person to me right now. And I couldn't go on without doing that. I won't ever ask you to go again. Don't worry." 

Alex bowed his head, feeling terrible at the statement. "I'm sorry, Walt. I didn't mean that. I'll go with you. I just thought...it's your parents." 

Walter stood and went to Alex, kissing the younger man quiet. "I know what you meant. It's a private thing and you want me to be comfortable. I wouldn't want you to feel like you're intruding. Truth be told, I tell them things about my life, but I never mentioned a man. I like going alone." 

Alex nodded. He felt relief. He didn't want Walter to feel abandoned, but he didn't feel comfortable being at the man's parents' graves. He barely felt comfortable at his own parents' graves. They lay in bed together that night in each other's arms, after having spent a vigorous hour of making love, knowing the other was there. Walter didn't always want to make love, which was a little disappointing for Alex, who in his mid twenties wanted to make love all the time. It was difficult to deal with sometimes, but the benefits of making love to an older man, one who understood patience and how to stretch out a fifteen minute fuck into three hours of lovemaking that would cause Alex to speak in tongues, far outweighed the liabilities. 

Alex drifted off to sleep happily, knowing he was blessed with his heart's desire, his true love. 

* * *

Valentine's was a Wednesday that year. Both men worked a full day, Walter coming home late due to a meeting with the posturing other assistant directors who passively veiled their jealousy of Walter being promoted to Deputy Director. At six, he called the meeting to a close, citing they weren't making progress and would reconvene the next week to continue. 

Walter fought through the Beltway traffic to reach the house he shared with Alex, who was already home. Alex had started dinner, finding himself becoming a fair cook. Walter had better recipes, but once Alex learned them, he could recreate them fairly well. Walter stood in the kitchen, watching Alex stir fry vegetables, and just watched. 

"Hey, Walt, what kept you?" Alex asked. He'd bought red roses and they were in a vase on dining room table. Alex had laid out the table for dinner and even put out candles to light. The men shared a sweet kiss before Alex went back to his dinner preparation. "I'm making beef vegetable stir fry, hope you like it." 

"Rice?" Walter asked while coming in to sit at the kitchen table. 

"Yes, of course. Go get washed up so we can eat. It's almost done." Walter went to comply, slipping out of his suit into a comfortable silk sweater and chinos, all in chocolate. One thing about Alex, he attributed his impeccable taste in clothes to being gay. He forced Walter to change a lot of his wardrobe, and even though Walter flinched at his credit card bill, he liked the way he looked in his new wardrobe. Three years later, he was happy to let Alex make all the clothing decisions. Alex was always dressed impeccably, tonight wearing a light blue Oxford shirt and stone chinos. 

When he entered the dining room, Walter was greeted with an amazing sight. Alex sat on one side of the table, bathed in candle light, from the dozen or so that were scattered around the room. He'd snuck them in while Walter was changing. He had set the table out with the sushi plates, even though the dish was Chinese. He's even put out the chopsticks Walter favored, from his time in Vietnam. There were glasses of red wine poured as well. Alex always had wine when beef was for dinner. 

"This is amazing, Alex. I'm so touched." Walter meant his words. They weren't much on romantic gestures, but once in a while, it was nice to be treated like someone speciall. 

They sat to eat, and the box Walter had in his pocket kept burning against his thigh. He wanted desperately to give it to Alex, but the timing was never quite right. Throughout the meal, and into dessert, which was cherry-covered cheesecake, Walter rubbed the bulge in his pocket as if it physically pained him to continue to hold it. When finally they'd eaten and set the dish washer running, Walter waited for Alex on the floor by the fireplace. Soft jazz was playing in the background. Walter had taken the time to light a fire in the hearth. He'd scattered the floor pillows around, each a different vibrant color to add to the decor of the room, ruby, emerald, sapphire, topaz and amethyst. 

"Wow, you really wanna romance me, huh, Walt?" Alex asked, joining Walter, both kicking their shoes off before settling down. They'd made love on that rug many a night. There was a tube of lube somewhere within reach for them to use. Alex sat beside Walter and lay back against the pillows, looking up at his lover. "I hope this is the part where we get to exchange gifts. You'll love what I got you." 

"OK," was all Walter said. 

From behind a cushion, Alex pulled out a black velvet box, reminiscent of the one Walter had ready. It was shaped differently, so Walter was confident they hadn't bought the same gift. Upon opening the wide, flat box, Walter found the most beautiful gold heavy-link bracelet. He took it in hand, letting the gold gleam in the firelight. Alex took it from his hand and linked it around his right wrist. 

"Your skin color, that deep honey color, looks great with gold. I thought you would like this. You can hide it under your shirt cuff at work. I hope..." 

"I love it," Walter said quickly and kissed Alex. "It's beautiful. Thank you, Alex." 

They shared another kiss and Walter decided to take the plunge and pull out his gift. He slipped the black velvet box from his pocket and handed it to Alex. He looked at it quizzically. "I guess we're on the same wavelength. I hope this isn't an earring. I let the hole close before entering the academy." 

"It's not an earring," was all Walter would say. Alex opened the box and in the firelight gleamed the two polished platinum bands. They were simple, no edging or engraving, no stones to lose. They were simple and elegant, like the men who would wear them. 

"Oh...my God!" Alex exclaimed before jumping into Walter's lap to kiss him deeply. "You...we...really? I mean, at the bureau..." 

"We can wear them on our right hands," Walter explained. 

"The Russian way," Alex noted. 

"Exactly. My parents wore them that way. You can tell anyone anything you like. Make up any story. So long as we know the truth." 

Alex kissed Walter again. "I would be proud to wear this. Do you...I mean...we could...a ceremony..." 

"I think that's a great idea. Mauga and Carole will get all the kids to come, our friends from the pub..." 

"Mulder and Scully?" Alex asked tentatively. 

"Do you want them there?" Walter asked. 

"Aren't they your friends?" Alex asked. 

Walter smiled a moment and thought back to all the joint investigations that Alex helped on, meeting Mulder and learning what everyone else knew; Mulder was incredibly intelligent, quick on the uptake and excellent at his job. Yet, his tunnel vision usually ensured that he would piss off as many people as possible, Alex included on many occasions. It was this tunnel vision that kept Mulder from knowing that Walter was gay. 

"I wouldn't exactly call Mulder a friend, but I think that they would like to come. Yes, let's invite them. Oh, and Murphy! I want her to be my maid of honor." 

"Anything you want, Alex. I'm sure she'll make the trip from New York for you. Anything for you." 

The men shared another kiss, which Walter deepened by pressing Alex back into the pillows on the floor. "God, Walter, I want you to plow me hard tonight, OK? Bruise me if you want to," Alex moaned. 

"No, not tonight," Walter said, pulling back. 

Alex's face fell. The wrinkle between his eyes deepened as he asked, "Why? Are you OK? We don't have to have Mulder and Scully, you know, if you don't want..." 

Walter smiled and put a finger up to Alex's lips to quiet him. "No, baby. You and I are going to make love tonight," Walter assured him, placing another kiss on his lush mouth. 

"Thank God!" Alex exclaimed. "How do you want me?" he asked, lying back to gaze up at Walter with heavy-lidded eyes. 

"Inside me," Walter said, looking intensely at Alex, hoping to convey that he was serious. 

Alex sat back, silenced for the moment. He took a deep breath and asked, "Are you sure? Really sure?" 

"Yes." 

"I mean, you let me use a finger or two, but this is a big deal, Walt," Alex said, stroking Walter's cheek. 

"I know how big it is," Walter purred, pushing Alex back and kissing him again. Alex laughed. 

"As long as you're sure, Walt, I'd be happy to pop your cherry," Alex growled, tumbling Walter over onto his back. 

* * *

Two mouths met in furious battle for control, but Alex's excitement overtook Walter's need for patience. Alex took his time, though, once he'd gotten straight what he wanted to do. He took his time, undressing Walter, pulling the sweater over his head and having his fill of Walter's chest. Alex knew it brought Walter great pleasure to have his nipples sucked and chewed. He moved his way down, going straight for Walter's cock. In the three years they'd been together, oral sex had become their preferred method of loving each other. Alex, needing to sit for hours at a time, knew it was practical. But sometimes, that gentle throb of a well-fucked ass was something to savor. Alex was excited that Walter wanted to know all the pleasure he gave to Alex. 

He pulled open Walter's pants and fished out the hard cock he was drooling for. In one movement, he engulfed it to the root, letting the thick head slide down his throat. Walter hadn't quite mastered that, gagging more often than not, but Alex tried to encourage him. Hearing Walter above him, murmuring words of love to him, he proceeded down to Walter's balls, while pulling the brown chinos from his body, sweeping Walters boxers with them. 

Reluctantly letting the massive member slip from his mouth, Alex gently eased Walter onto his stomach, over one of the big pillows. Alex reached for the broad golden shoulders, kneading the generous muscles and soft skin, relaxing his lover. He knew Walter would be nervous, no matter how much he wanted it. Alex allowed his tongue to follow his hands down Walter's spine, mapping every muscle and ripple, leaving a cool trail behind. The little sounds of Walter's pleasure inspired Alex all the more to take the two firm globes of Walter's ass in his hands and knead them gently. 

"Oh God, yeah, Alex, that's it," Walter moaned. "That feels so damn good." 

Gently, so as not to surprise his lover, Alex pulled the cheeks apart and blew a warm breath down Walter's crack. The big man squirmed in place, chuckling a bit, then groaned loudly upon the application of Alex's hot, wet tongue to his quivering hole. Alex knew how to tickle Walter just right. It wasn't the first time he'd rimmed his lover, and it certainly wouldn't be the last. Alex tickled around the edges, feeling the muscles fluttering under his gentle pressure. After teasing a bit longer, Alex pressed in, driving up inside his lover as far as he could go. 

"Yes, oh God, yes, fucking Christ," Walter ground out. Alex smiled around Walter's hole at the sound of his lover taking the Lord's name in vain while committing acts of homosexuality. Alex certainly approved. 

When he felt Walter relaxing, opening to him, letting his tongue slip down further, he pulled back. "Don't go anywhere," he said quietly. The coffee table had a hidden drawer in it, one that only Walter and Alex knew how to open. They kept their lube in that drawer for easy access, so that no one else could find it when visiting. Alex put a dollop on his finger, spread it around to warm it and brought it to Walter's ass. He spread a bit around the outside of the opening, feeling every wrinkle of skin, the gentle contractions as Walter tried to draw him in. He slipped in gently, reaching back to touch Walter's prostate. He tickled it gently, feeling Walter buck under him. 

"Oh, you like that, huh? Want another finger?" he asked quietly. 

"Yes, another...please..." Walter breathed. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Alex slid the other finger inside. He moved them gently in and out, scissoring open the way he taught Walter to do to him. He watched his lover's ass begin to rise and move back on his hand. Alex knew Walter was as ready as he could be. He added more lube to his hand to slide over his erection and helped Walter onto his back. 

"I want to look into your eyes while I make love to you," Alex whispered before kissing Walter again. Pulling Walter's thighs apart gently and settled between them. He ran his hands along Walter's thighs, feeling the slight trembling. "Relax, my love, I won't hurt you," Alex soothed. 

Without wasting any time, which would make Walter grow even more anxious, Alex pressed against Walter's ass and slid right in. Slowly, with gentle thrusts, Alex made his way inside, deep enough to press his balls to Walter's ass. Alex sighed deeply and just lay across Walter's chest a moment. Two long, strong arms came about Alex's body, holding him tightly. 

"How does it feel, love?" Alex whispered in Walter's ear. 

"Oh God, this is what I've been missing?" he asked, eyes rolling around. 

"It gets better," Alex growled and pulled back out, almost completely. He just left the very tip in, and then slid back all the way home. Walter let out almost what could be called a yelp and then a groan when Alex began moving slowly. Walter's hands roamed over Alex's back, down to cup the strong, firm buttocks. Alex kissed Walter deeply, keeping his eyes open to watch the play of emotions on his lover's face. For what felt like hours, and could have been, Alex made love to Walter. Alex could feel the build up begin in his loins, so he re-angled himself to hit Walter's prostate. The shout of joy was music to Alex's ears. He continued pressing and nudging the little gland until Walter was crying out to come. 

"You want me to let you come, baby?" Alex said. Walter nodded furiously. "Tell me!" 

"Please, Alex, please, let me...let me come, please," Walter begged. Alex smiled and leaned up a bit to reach down and grasp Walter's cock. The dark, throbbing organ felt like a rod of fire in Alex's hand as he stroked it gently in rhythm to his thrusts. The pitch of Walter's moans went higher and higher until he let out one terrific shout before letting loose and coming as hard as he ever had. The first shot hit them both under their chins and kept shooting to glue their chest together. Alex groaned as the strong ass squeezed him tightly, pulsing around him, ensuring he came just as hard as his lover. He filled Walter's ass with his hot liquid, thrusting to the very last moment before collapsing across Walter's chest. 

For long moments, neither said anything, just panting heavily into each other's ears. Alex was exhausted, almost drifting to sleep at one point. He rose up, knowing he didn't want to peel his skin from Walter's, and lay next to him. Walter turned on his side and kissed Alex's mouth, not letting go until both needed oxygen. 

"Thank you, Alex," he said. "I can't believe how wonderful that was." 

Alex kissed his cheek and said, "It is. But don't think you'll be sitting at your desk for hours tomorrow." 

"No, tomorrow, you're calling in sick. So am I. We're going to do this again, I think." 

Alex turned toward Walter to look deeply into his dark eyes. "You're seriously going to play hooky to fuck all day? You? Stoneface Skinner, as the other agents so affectionately call you?" 

Walter sat up and asked, "Who calls me that?" 

Alex smiled and shook his head. "Agents don't squeal on each other, Assistant Director, you know that." 

* * *

Walter lay back and brushed gently at the smear on his chest. "What do you say we shower and take this up to bed?" 

"I say, you're on. You poke down the fire, I'll start the shower." 

"Meet you up there," Walter said and watched Alex's ass jiggle up the steps. He lay back and sighed. The past three years had been the most exciting time in his life. Sharon loved Alex upon meeting him and they had a standing date for dinner, which was usually about twice a month, trading off houses. She was the one who urged Walter to buy the rings and commit to Alex. 

"If you love him, and you want to be with him forever, give him a reason to believe that," she said. He was so happy he followed her advice. Alex proved to be an amazing lover, being so patient with Walter when they tried new things. Alex had been around the block quite a bit, but he never made Walter feel inadequate. Walter felt nothing but love from Alex and wanted to return it. He wanted to give the other man a sense of stability, and ensure Alex wouldn't want to leave him for a younger man with more hair. Walter still had his insecurities, so he wanted a little security for himself as well. 

"I'm getting lonely up here," came the call from up the stairs. 

"Coming!" Walter called out, getting up. 

"Not yet but soon!" came the answer. Snatching up the lube, Walter trotted up the stairs to his lover, and his future. 

The End

  
 

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Title:   **Falling Into Paradise**  
Author:  Ursula, Amazon X, Lady Midath, Morticia, Peach, Laura   [email/website]  
Details:    **Standalone**  |  **NC-17**  |  **341k**  |  **02/06/06**   
Pairings:  Skinner/Krycek  
Category:  Drama, Story, X-File or Casefile, Romance, Angst, Hurt/Comfort  
Summary:  An alternate take on Krycek's life. What if he and AD Skinner met when he was at the academy.  
Notes:  AD Skinner teaches at Quantico, meeting a young Agent Krycek. Both lives change.  
  
  
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